


Agony Piler [a Modern Day Fantasy Horror]

by Buglii



Category: Hello Puppets! (video game)
Genre: Chaptered, Fan Characters, Hello Puppets! - Freeform, Horror, Horror Fantasy, Other, Puppets, Voodoo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-09-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:47:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 23,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23011234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buglii/pseuds/Buglii
Summary: Former child actor, Sophie Sellick, has turned into a disheveled and dreary shell of her former self. The mysterious and tragic events of the Handeemen HQ fire still find a way to haunt her many years later. The secrets she is forced to keep are eating away at her psyche, but when an unmarked package delivers a forgotten friend and instructions on how to end the madness,  will she have enough courage to face the source of her on-going nightmares?
Comments: 28
Kudos: 63





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> The following is fan fiction for a game rated M+17. This story will also involve mature subject matter and is not intended to be read by younger audiences. Viewer discretion is not enforced but is advised.

_“A public disturbance report has left police unnerved earlier this morning. When authorities were sent to investigate sightings of a masked individual in a restricted area of the city’s industrial park, they were shocked to find none other than a local college student who went missing earlier this week. Inside info reports that when police removed the mask, the student’s mouth was sewn shut. A result, sources say, is likely connected to their brief disappearance. Sources are now claiming that this could be connected to a recent string of murders where several mutilated bodies were discovered on the south edge of Ivy Avenu-”_   
  
_Click._

Sophie had enough of the tv. She had a feeling the news report was going to bring up the studio fire again. As if she needed another damn reminder.  
  
It felt like it had been many years since the tragedy; the one that ended the life and career of her family friend and mentor, Owen Gubberson. Sophie Sellick was more than eager to forget her childhood as an actor, but the media loved a good mystery. Reporters and journalists would hound Sophie relentlessly before she was able to escape the spotlight. Many days of questions and accusations had left the once cheery red-head as a disheveled and dreary shell of her former self.  
  
Everyone wanted to know about the events leading up to the fire; The rumors of people getting hurt offset, Owen’s sudden desire to isolate himself from the cast, and the disappearance of Sophie's mother, who was an executive producer for "Mortimer's Handeemen". They all wanted to know if any of the bad press had any connection with that fateful day in April, but Sophie would never go into details further than grievances over the loss of those she considered family.  
  
The truth behind the tragedy was too absurd for anyone to believe. All she could pray for was the day people lost interest, so the past could finally rot away quietly.  
  


**"THIS IS THE SONG THAT NEVER ENDS, IT JUST GOES ON-"**

**"NO DUMBASS, THAT'S NOT HOW IT GOES, IT'S 'DOESN'T' END, NOT 'NEVER'."**

**"AWW WHAT DO YOU FUCKIN' KNOW, YOU DRUNK!"**

Sophie flinched; the duet of the alleyway squatters had brought herself back to reality. With how loud they were, she could hear them from her shabby apartment on the fourth floor. Of course, having the window open didn't help either.

As she stretched, Sophie emerged from the makeshift nest of blankets on the couch. Her eyes squinting as she approached the lamp near the window. Despite her insomnia, she had to at least try to rest before tomorrow. She was asked by someone claiming to be a friend to meet them at a diner. While she was suspicious over the possibility of them lying for an interview, she also wasn't in a position to turn down a free meal.

From the window, Sophie could see the distorted shadows of the night owls plastered on the towering brick walls. No doubt someone was going to complain about the trash cans getting turned into burn barrels again, but at least they sounded happy for now. She really couldn't help but admire how people could still find the time to sing and be happy during their hardest times.

Finally closing the window, the next step was to flick the lights off and turn in. As she reached for the switch, the sight of a white van froze her in place. As it parked in front of the dead-end alley, the side doors opened as shadowy figures crept quietly out of the car and began walking towards the fire-lit alley. The silhouettes of the drifters were then joined by one of the strangers, then two more. 

It only took for one of the vagrants to approach before the strangers began to overwhelm them, from the frantic movement it appeared a struggle was happening. With Sophie's stomach sinking, she scrambled to a drawer nearby, trying to find the binoculars she had for such alarming occasions. By the time she found them and looked back, the light in the alley was gone.

Quietly as she could, she opened the window and peered out for a better look. With hardly any noise coming from the dead end, it was hard to tell what happened. She looked back down to the van, and sure enough, saw two of the strange people leaving the alley carrying their unconscious victims over their backs. As they began to unload the squatters in the van, Sophie lowered her binoculars in disbelief…

That's when she finally spotted the third stranger. Dressed fully in black with a sack over their head, standing under the spotlight motionless and facing where she was. With the sack over their head, it was hard to tell if she was spotted, or if they were just standing guard. Their left hand was hiding behind their back, while the right raised upwards. Their fingers began a familiar motion;

_One, two, three, four, five._

They were counting on one hand. The action confused her until she remembered her building had ten rows of five windows. Which meant…

_One, two…_

She didn't wait for them to finish. Sophie quickly closed the windows, shut off the lamp, and rushed over to the front door. She frantically double-checked every chain lock and door latch, making sure they kept the door bolted before retreating back to her room. 

She wrapped herself tightly in her sheets, clutching her shivering body as she tried to fall asleep. Rasping to herself;

" _It wasn't real. It wasn't real. It wasn't real…_ "


	2. Dress Rehersal

_"If your struggles have grown, and you are all alone, and you needed a friend, who could it be?  
_

_Your bike has a flat? You lost the teacher's pet rat? There's only one name to call, it's Handee!"_

  
  
With a cup of sliced apples in hand, a young Sophie Sellick's eyes were fixated on the colorful display of song and puppets being displayed on the TV. While it wasn't much different from other children's shows at the time, "Mortimer's Handeemen" had this uncanny charm that really made kids believe the puppets were real.

Sophie, however, was never one of those kids. She had been in show business long enough now to know about the _'in's and out's'_ of movie magic. It might have made her an outcast to fellow cast members around her age, but from her knowledge, she developed a deep appreciation for the people behind the scenes.  
  


"Sophie...Sophie!"   
  


The ten-year old's head snapped over to the woman standing outside of the green room. It was her mother; with wavy red hair draping over her teal business suit, and long emerald nails tapping impatiently on the doorframe. "We have five minutes to get ready backstage. Let's get this over with so we can go home."

Sophie slipped off the couch and over to her mom, only now realizing how empty the green room actually was. Usually, it would be loaded with excited and nervous children, but she seemed to be the only one today. Quite bizarre if the show was only starting now.

The sound of the TV faded away softly as the two walked down the dimly lit hall. Sophie did her best to keep up with the swift heels of her Mother.  
  
"Hey mom, have you heard from Uncle Owen recently?"

Her mother didn't reply. This was usually normal when Sophie's mother was writing on a notepad or had a cellphone held up to her ears. But her hands were empty, and she didn't even look back at her.  
  


"...Are you still mad about what he did?"  
  


Again, no answer. As they walked further down the hall, a chill crawled up Sophie's spine as the light began to fade. She only had the click of her mother's footsteps to guide her through the darkness.

The child actor froze when everything suddenly went silent. She felt like she was standing inside an abyss, nervous and uncertain if anyone was still by her side. In an act of desperation, she called out timidly;  
  


"...Mom?"  
  


A burst of light from above blinds her temporarily. As her vision finally comes to, she notices her hands and arms were much larger than before. A change that didn't make any sense until she saw what was in front of her.

There stood a free-standing door; its colors a dull lavender with stars and alchemical symbols etched around its panels. Presented in the top center, a detailed carving of an eye stared back at her with vacancy. This was a door that never appeared on "Mortimer's Handeemen", but she was familiar with this door.  
  


The click of an unseen intercom echoed through the void. The voice of the man she once called uncle echoed;  
  


"Alright Sophie, so it's going to be just like we rehearsed. We're looking for clever and cheery for your character. So basically...well, just be yourself! I promise we're going to have a lot of fun with this"  
  


"Owen, is that actually you?" Sophie called out. "Something doesn't feel right. I don't think this is the right door…" 

Sophie stood there waiting for a response, she wasn't going to walk through like the last several times. She couldn't clearly remember what happens when she does, but they always ended badly. Eventually, the click of the intercom came back;  
  


"Alright Sophie, so it's going to be just like we rehearsed. _We're looking for yhhrhrh_ **_hkk-kHHH-_ ** **"  
  
**

The distortion of the intercom caught Sophie off guard, distracting her from the doorknob that slowly turned. With a harsh creak, the door slowly opened as smoke billowed towards her from within. Inside was the charred innards of an all too familiar backstage, fluorescent lights flickering and failing to illuminate the way forward.

Sophie had no desire to proceed; her legs felt bolted to the floor, but she could already hear the voices begin to swarm. They were the memories she tried so hard to suppress, all playing over each other as if she was trapped in a crowd. One voice in particular pierced through the murmurs, its devilish tone sending shivers through her skin as it calls out;

_"Claaaire..."_

Claire was not Sophie's name, but she knew that voice, and why it called that name.

  
In a burst of adrenaline, Sophie ran into the scorched studio and slammed the door behind her. As she attempts to catch her breath, the voice chuckled in wicked amusement.

  
"Leave me alone GODDAMMIT!" Sophie shouted into the fog, hoping her anger was loud enough to hide her anguish. 

  
As she stumbled her way through the soot and destruction, Sophie tried to spot anything that could lead her out of this personal hell. The scent of charcoal and melted plastic-filled her nostrils with every step she took, but she needed to escape somehow. She had a very bad feeling she wasn't going to be alone for long.

Her pace slowed down as she took in her surroundings. She had wandered into the remains of a puppet workshop, which now looked like the aftermath of a pediophobe's grizzly massacre. It felt painful to see this room again in such a miserable state, the few good memories she did have with Owen took place in this once inspirational room.

Sophie paid no mind to the ticking coming from the ceiling, her attention being drawn to a corkboard. The papers, photos, and sticky notes were either charred from sparks or covered with soot, except for one in the center. Her eyes watered as she pulled the Polaroid of her and Owen; both smiling to the camera over the completion of the rabbit puppet she still cherished.

" _Heckle Hare…_ " She rasped sadly. "At least he didn't get involved with all of this…"

  
  
When red liquid began to stain through the picture, she quickly examined her left hand. What was once an intricate scar that she desperately tried to heal was now freshly open. The blood oozing from her palm carried an unnatural glint for such a dimly lit room.

  
The patterning of spilled blood was overtaken by the clicking of something very fast scurrying against the unseen ceiling. Turning around, she could barely make out the dust and scraps falling towards the ground, and making its way towards her from the direction she came from. After a frantic, five-second internal debate, she chose to dive under one of the workshop tables to hide.  
  
Sophie covered herself with whatever she could before the unknown threat arrived. The trail of raining soot stopped in the very middle of the room, where a brief silence followed. Peeking behind the spools of felt and boxes of old foam, she could see a circle growing in size where the soot fell. 

_  
THOOM~!_ _  
__  
  
_Sophie covered her mouth to avoid shrieking. As the wave of dust cleared, she finally saw the source of the noise...a hand. One large, wooden hand with long and gangly fingers tipped with sharp points. Its claws retract and it rises onto the tips of its fingers as it begins to slowly explore the area. The demonic voice returned, slowly crooning in rhymes;  
  
 _“Where, oh where did my little Claire go?  
_ _  
__You’re making your dear old master worry so.”_  
  
Watching the detached hand crawling over every table was enough to make her hair stand on end. It was like seeing a spider trying to stalk its prey. She needed to figure out how she could get away without being heard, but she had no idea which way would be safe.

_  
"If she shows herself now, I won’t be angry,_

_Come out my apprentice...you must return to me.”_

  
Her left hand began to sting, making it difficult to stay silent. Looking back down, she noticed the flow of her blood was dripping upwards. The glistening puddle of red below her looked to be flowing to her left side, trailing towards the west exit where she could make out green light. It took her a second to remember, but the studio’s exit signs were all green.  
  
“Jackpot.” She thought to herself triumphantly…before her sinuses backstabbed her with a sneeze.  
  
Sophie screamed as the hand lunged towards the table, scrambling out before the hand and table tumbled towards the wall. With the little time given, she bolted through the west hallway towards the emerald fog. Just before the end of the hall, the light shifted off to the right hall, another wooden hand walked its wooden fingers through the left hall. Hearing the hand behind her and seeing the hand in front reach out, she dropped and rolled under the threatening obstruction as it collided with its missing half and straight into the wall behind it.  
  
 **_“Is this a game to you?!”_ ** The voice shouted in rage, **_“Do you feel lucky so far?!”_ ** **_  
_** **_  
_** Not waiting around to see if they were gone, Sophie made a mad dash to the left. The exit was finally in sight, she hoped to God this wasn’t her mind playing tricks on her. But knowing her luck, there was bound to be something bad waiting shortly after.  
  
 **_“YOU CAN’T ESCAPE THIS TIME! I KNOW WHERE YOU ARE!”_ ** **_  
_** **_  
_** _BAM~!_  
  
Sophie's body slammed through the door, nearly falling to the ground. Chest heaving as she tried not to fall flat on the floor. Wiping the sweat off her brow, her eyes went wide once she saw the horrible sight in front of her.  
  
Her Mother and the seven missing puppeteers; all sitting at the same table that was covered in gore and fleece. Their heads turned in unison towards her with the aid of hanging wires, their eyes gouged and mouths stitched into a painful and permanent grimace. Their limp arms raised and stacked together to mimic the act of applause.  
  
She felt a panic attack bubbling inside her, but before it could overflow, she felt a firm hand grab her shoulder and turned her to face its owner.  
  
  
“ _Hey, Kiddo..._ ”  
  
  
Sophie couldn’t believe her eyes; Standing in front of her was none other than the man who made her a part of this mess. He looked exactly the same as the last time she saw him alive. Sophie didn’t know whether to hug him or hit him but settled on holding onto him. She began to sob from the overwhelming anxiety;  
  
  
“Owen, what the **FUCK** is going on?! Why won’t he leave me alone?!” She cried harshly. The lack of expression on his face only made her more upset, slamming her tear-soaked face against his chest.   
  
  
“What I saw wasn’t real right? You were just fucking with me back then because I didn’t believe in magic, right? PLEASE, Please tell me he didn’t kill y-”  
  
  
“Shh, it’s going to be okay Sophie,” Owen assured in an oddly calm voice. “I told your mother the cut on your hand was an accident, but...I'm worried she might find out somehow.”  
  
  
“Wh-What?” Sophie had to take a step back, she had no idea what Owen was talking about. As she tried to avoid eye contact with the grim visage of her mom, it finally dawned on her. He said this exact thing to her before; this wasn’t the real Owen, but a memory of him.  
  
  
Owen took her by the hand gently and placed a VHS tape in her hand. The worn label on the side had strange symbols scrawled in permanent marker, with the last sharing an eerie resemblance to the cut on her hand. She knew she already had this tape in her possession, but why was this memory being played out again.  
  
“I was going to keep this copy for myself...but I want you to have it instead. I think you and I are the only people that will ever appreciate what we made together...” Owen placed his hand on her shoulder again as he leaned in close, now with a look of   
concern growing on his face.  
  
  
“ _You have to promise me you won’t tell anyone else about this tape. No one will ever understand..._ ”  
  
  
She stared at him for what felt like too long. Before she could say anything else, those familiar wooden hands loomed over Owen’s head and pierced their fingers into his eyes. His screams of anguish were the last thing she heard before she opened her eyes. 


	3. Troublemakers

Waking up stiff, breathless, and drenched in sweat should have been something Sophie was used to by now. She wasn't sure how long she was asleep this time, but she appreciated the radio's crusty serenade of irrelevant advertisements wading her back to reality. She was safe now, but the tension was still there. She needed to medicate.

Her hand staggers towards the handle of her bedside drawer and pulls it open. Rummaging through an organized mess, she pulled out a lighter and a pocket-sized wooden box. Opening a tiny compartment in the box popped out a cylindrical pipe, her only functioning source of relief during these bad spells. It only took a quick dig into the herbal compartment of the box, and a flicker of fire to gradually dull the tension inside her.

She hated the smell; she also hated that an illicit drug was more effective than the medication prescribed to her, but the smell was what she hated right now. It was a small downside, but it made it easier to cope with when she needed to step out. At least she never experimented any further after her teens, else her mother would be haunting her thoughts more often.

With a sigh of relief, she leans back against the bed frame, reflecting on her dreams while they were still fresh on her mind. Sophie examined her left hand; the scar on her hand was back to how it’s been for years. No blood or scabs, just the same flared marks on her hand.  
  
The more she stared, the more she remembered those sigils on the label of that...tape.  
Her brow furrowed as she remembered; she still had it tucked in her closet, and the only time she ever watched it was during Owen's original pitch back in eighty-three. It had been twelve years since then, but it perplexed her why her dream reminded her now.  
  
Sophie stared at her mess of a closet; she would have to watch the tape again later tonight.  
It was going to be a lot to stomach; she hated seeing herself on tape these days. But hopefully, this meeting she was invited to wouldn’t take too long.

As her thoughts fade from the dream and into the present, her eyes gloss over to the FM radio and its little red numbers. 

  
_Eleven fifteen._  
  
  
Son of a bitch, she was supposed to leave an hour ago for the bus. Groaning, she finally left the bed to find something clean to wear. ‘What an excellent way to start off today.’ Sophie sarcastically thought to herself.   
  
-  
  
One of the things Sophie never expected to learn from acting is how necessary it was in everyday life. The character she started playing after living on her own was reclusive and unassuming, a contrast from her younger self who was comfortable with people. It wasn’t too hard to pull off when she focused, but it would always leave her drained when she came home.  
  
It wasn’t entirely taxing, that’s just how improv was for her. Having to watch, read, or listen to people and their moods were necessary to reflect the reactions they wanted from her. It was easier than trying to deter people from figuring out who she was. But today was concerningly different; this person already knew who she used to be.  
  
As her bus drove to her destination, she pondered the potential outcomes from this meeting. They could have just been a fan that found her phone number on a whim, but she didn’t like to assume she made that much of an impact with her film roles. Perhaps they could be an aspiring actor who wanted advice and made the right connections in order to find her.  
  
Whatever it was, it definitely couldn’t have been an actual friend. Her mother never gave her the time to connect with people her own age, she remembered how she would openly express the risk of getting attached to people you had to compete with. Even in her teens, she never felt confident sticking around with others, especially if they knew her by fame.  
  
She should...probably stop thinking about how she had no social life, things could get too heavy if she continued…  
  
Finally reaching her stop, Sophie left the bus and walked down toward the edge of the street. It was a good thing they settled to meet at a diner nearby, it wouldn’t be too costly and the other patrons usually minded their own business. As she went through the chimed door, it dawned on her that she never asked for a description of the one who invited her.

This conundrum immediately solved itself, a man in his early thirties who was sitting near the entrance was alerted to her presence. With a warm smile, he approached her with an extended arm to greet her; "Hey there! I'm really glad you would take the time to hang out today!" 

Shaking his hand felt different from other people; he used both hands, but the embrace was more gentle than expected. Sophie worried that her own hand might have just been too limp, but she was genuinely caught off guard.

"Yeah, sorry I'm late." Sophie said "I was up pretty late last night and woke up at a bad time. I didn't get your name fully on the phone, you're…"

"Jason, Jason Mattar! We met during the production of Mortimer's Handeemen!"

Sophie cocked an eyebrow, she didn't remember the names of every kid on the show but had never seen anyone like Jason before. "It's not really ringing any bells..."

"Oh, sorry wait," Jason corrected himself, "Technically I wasn't part of the original cast of kids they had. I was the kid that won the sweepstakes, and played the role of someone's pen pal named-"

"Gary…" Sophie interrupted. Her face went into a wide, vacant stare as the memories of a peculiar twelve-year-old with bandages scattered around his arms and legs. The one-child actor that treated her like any other kid...because he actually _was_ one.

-

Not much eating was done on Sophie's part; she spent most of the time chipping away at a waffle while listening to this forgotten acquaintance in bewilderment. He had done well for himself after his only episode, he graduated high school and took a bachelor's degree in archeology. Afterwards, he found a job at the local museum, as well as the hand of his boss’s daughter in marriage.

It was astounding to hear how someone who was involved with that old puppet show turned out so...normal.  
  
“Yeah, my fiance has a five-year-old nephew and I’ve been showing him all the old shows I grew up with,” James says before taking a drink of water. “We only just recently got up to Mortimer’s Handeemen.”  
  
“Really?” Sophie replied without much enthusiasm. “What does he think of it?”  
  
“His favorite is Rosco, so we know he’s got good taste.” Jason joked, his smile getting softer as he recollected his thoughts. “Though I don’t think he’s comfortable looking at any of the human puppets...”  
  
Sophie nodded as she punctured a small slice of her waffle. “I really wouldn’t blame him for that. Animal puppets have always been more appealing than ones that look human, I’m sure there’s some kind of science out there to explain that.”  
  
Jason leaned back as he scratched his jawline; “Yeah, the main cast did stick out like sore thumbs, didn’t they? They were wooden rod puppets while everyone else was made of felt or fleece.”  
  
“Well, that was Owen for you,” Sophie said shoving the stabbed piece of batter in her mouth “He was always aiming to please people, but it would always just make things harder on himself.” 

There was a moment of silence between the two of them as they had reached an awkward point. Sophie knew that this conversation was getting to a point where she wasn’t comfortable, but she wanted to give Jason a chance.  
  
As Jason opened his mouth, a peculiar question popped out;  
  
  
“ _Do...you remember when you showed me Owen’s office?_ ”  
  
  
Sophie just stood there and blinked in confusion. “...You’re asking me about that?”  
  
“Sorry, is...is that not one of the ‘okay’ questions?”  
  
“No! It’s um...it's fine.” Sophie assured. “I was expecting the usual questions. Like ‘what happened to Owen’ or ‘did I do the fire-”  
  
“Oh! No uh, I didn’t want to bring up anything you aren’t comfortable with,” Jason began to clarify, “but...since I’ve started rewatching some old shows, I keep thinking back to that day…”

With the string of horrible events and experiences leading up to the fire, Sophie had trouble tracing her exact steps. She leaned back staring up at the ceiling, trying to remember their brief friendship;

"Hmm...well first off, I didn't _show_ you Owen's office. You saw a key fall out of his pocket, I remember also telling you to give that back to him, but _somehow_ you convinced me to explore his office with you…"

"Okay, yeah, my memory is a bit fuzzy on the first part." Jason admitted, "but I do remember how amazing it looked…"

Sophie was starting to remember as well, the office of her late family friend was like stepping into an illustration of a fantasy book. He had replaced the window pane with stained glass, which illuminated an otherworldly light against his collection of mystical looking objects.

His desk was the definition of organized chaos; drenched in various papers new and old, and decorated with shiny little trinkets left and right. The only place kept tidy was a shelf on the left corner, where a special wooden stand made for his prized creation would rest.  
  


"...Is it weird that I also remember seeing a shrunken head?" Sophie asked. 

"No," Jason gave a playful pout, "because you were the one that actually touched it and proceeded to dangle it in my face." 

Sophie's face cracked a smile so fast that it almost hurt her dimples. "Oh c'mon, you still don't think it was real do you? There's no way Owen had a real one."

"Well, maybe…" Jason thought. "Though...I will admit, looking back he did have a lot of weird stuff, like that fancy book he had…"  
  


"A book?" Sophie asked.

"I...don't know if you really remembered. You were too worried about us getting caught at the time..." Jason continued. His expression growing more dazed as he relived the event in his mind, "It didn't have any words. Well, English words I mean. From the few pages I looked through, it had these really weird drawings of people...hurting themselves."

Sophie leaned in a bit closer, "What...what do you mean 'hurting themselves'?"

Jason exhaled; "I-I don't know. I guess like... _needles_? _Knives_? It was weird though, the wounds they had didn't look like they were bleeding liquid, more like...releasing some strange _vapor_." Jason went quiet, it looked like he was remembering something specifically disturbing.

"I...I remember this one page. There were two people, one cradling the other in their arms. Their left hands were clasped together and that weird vapor was enveloping the one laying down. The face of the cradled one...they looked so disturbing. They had these _bulging eyes_ , but everything else about them looked so…so _decayed_."  
  
  


Sophie kept silent; She tried to recollect her memories, but nothing about what Jason described made sense when associated with Owen. Did the man have a fixation on the supernatural? Of course. But what Jason was describing sounded like Necromancy, and she couldn't begin to fathom a man as squeamish as Owen would take an interest in something so grim.

"That book was probably as real as that shrunken head I was playing with," Sophie said, trying to brush the topic aside. "We were messing around in a place filled with movie magic. It could have just been a prop he was working on...I'm certain of it."

"...Yeah, you probably have a point there." Jason finished his water with a refreshed sigh. "Looking back at it, I don't think I ever came across any old text resembling what I saw while taking archeology. So that language the book was written in could have been fake too."

Silence took over the table again, allowing the two friends to reflect. This was the most Sophie had ever talked to about the old puppet studio, and it was strangely alleviating. Jason may not have been familiar with the strain of show business, but it was touching that he considered her a friend from their short time together.

Jason suddenly smirked; looking like the gears in his head were beginning to turn.  
  


" _You know,_ I actually took my car here to meet you. If you wanted, we could drive around a bit…"


	4. If you're lonely, you can talk to me

Everything about this idea was stupid to her. However, Jason’s alternative was to go by himself, which didn't sit right after the kidnapping she saw last night.   
  


Cruising into the industrial area felt like a reality warp; the only traces of life were modern cars in parking lots. The few buildings spaced around lacked windows, and those that did had blinds to shun whatever distractions might interrupt production within. It was already perfect as a ghost town, but according to the news, it would become a literal one soon.  
  
"A lot of these businesses are moving to the east side right?" Sophie asked, trying to distract herself from where they were heading.

"That's the plan," Jason replied. "A lot of these buildings were made eons ago, but they're no longer up to code. So the city's plan is to demolish this area by the end of the month."

Sophie blinked; "They aren't going to get conservated?" 

"I was thinking that too, but apparently it's going to be cheaper to make new buildings instead of restoring what's still standing." Jason gave a disappointed sigh as he gripped the wheel. “Shame too, some of those buildings must have been here since the early nineteenth century…”

Pulling into Ivy Avenue, they were greeted to the sight of a familiar red building in the distance. The remains of the once memorable film site had gone nearly untouched since the blaze, but by the time they parked across the street, the subtle changes were clear. Through its chain-linked cage, they saw its larger windows and doors boarded with sheets of plywood running all the way down until it reached the charred husk that was once its east wing.  
  
  
“Wow...I can’t believe it…” Jason spoke in awe.   
  
  
“I know…” Sophie said quietly. “I thought there would have been more vandalism done to this place.” 

Jason looked over to her with a puzzled expression. “Well that’s a little harsh, don’t you think?” His hand gestures towards the building as he continued; “I mean, a lot of people’s childhoods were made in that very building, and you were expecting vandalism?” 

“Not every kid had the pleasure of spacing out in front of a TV screen every morning Jason.” She shifted in her seat with discomfort as she kept her eyes locked on the left-wing. “I definitely wasn’t one of them…”

  
Jason fidgets with his fingers, looking down as he realizes his error. “Sorry, I forgot you…I’ll go ahead and stop-”   
  
  
“No, you’re fine, just…” She gave a frustrated sigh. It was starting to feel good to finally talk to someone again but worried that if she became too comfortable and told him everything, he would think she was crazy. All she could really share were small pieces of a nonsensical truth.   
  
“I never appeared on the show...but I was supposed to. Owen was insistent on that, despite my Mom’s disapproval, but...a lot of weird stuff started to happen.” Sophie began to rub at her forehead, trying to keep her composure as she began sharing things she knew she shouldn’t.   
  
“Owen...he didn’t like talking to a lot of people his own age. He found a lot of people boring and uninspired, but he was very close to my mom...and in turn, was very close to me. But during production, he was beginning to isolate himself more from everyone. It got to a point where he only talked with me when he had Mortimer on.”   
  
Jason furrowed his brow, thinking about his own encounters with the man. “Yeah...I remember the interviews he did, it sounded like he was really breaking down from stress. Though...it wasn’t all bad right? You at least got to work with a childhood hero.”   
  
“At first I guess, but it got frustrating when he wouldn’t drop Mortimer’s character when talking to me.” Sophie huffed, rubbing her eyes as she tried to stop herself from crying. “I don’t know why he wouldn’t just talk to me himself. I thought I was his friend...I thought he took me seriously…”   
  
Jason hovered his hand over her shoulder, waiting for consent to pat her on the shoulder. With a sigh, he readjusts his glasses as he tried his best to comfort her. “I’m really sorry you went through all that, it’s always hard when you start to lose touch with people.”   
  
His hand points out the window, directing Sophie’s line of sight towards a sign clipped to the fence; in bold red, the sign announced the plans to demolish the building along with the date. “If I’m reading that right, the building has three days left before it meets the city wrecking balls. So you have that to look forward to, yeah?”   
  
Sophie shook her head with a smile of disbelief; compared to the people she once hung out with, Jason was something else. He was willing to take a dig at his own childhood to make her feel better, even though he didn’t have any reason to sympathize with her. If she could talk to her past self, she would have told her to stop listening to her mom and hang out with him more.   
  
As she took another look towards the sign, something in the rearview mirror made her heartbeat freeze;   
  
  
Parked behind them was a white van. She wasn’t sure if it was the van from last night, but this was too terrifying of a coincidence. Sophie’s eyes went wide; although the window was heavily tinted, she could make out someone sitting in the driver’s seat.   
  
  
“ _Oh fuck, they’re behind us…_ ” She muttered out loud.   
  
  
“Wait who?” Jason asked, about to take a look in the back mirror before Sophie grabbed his arm to stop him. Her eyes began to dart around, trying to think of an explanation and an excuse to leave. “Those people in the white van, they uh…” She stammered, “They’re probably from the city, they probably don’t want anyone near here. We should go.”   
  
The look on Sophie’s face made it obvious that something was wrong, but Jason took the cue to rev up the engine and get going. “You have an address? I can just drive you right home.”   
  
Sophie hesitated; thinking of what to do in the event they get stalked. “Tell you what, if you drive us back to the diner, I can point out the directions.”   
  
  
“Good enough I guess. Did you just move in that area?” Jason asked.   
  
  
“No, I’ve been there for two years,” Sophie said flatly. “We should take the scenic route. It’s probably faster.”   
  


-

Sophie kept her eyes glued to the rearview mirror, watching their backs carefully. When they reached the highway back into the heart of downtown, she was able to catch the sight of their pursuer following them from two cars behind. What followed was an awkward attempt of trying to lose their stalker without alarming her newly acquainted friend; she purposefully directed them deep into the late afternoon rush and continued to make small talk. 

Eventually, Sophie could no longer see any sign of the van. And after a couple more minutes, confirmed it was safe to give the address to Jason and head back. As they pulled over to her street, Sophie turned to Jason;

"...Again, I'm sorry for the trouble."

Jason shrugged, seemingly unaffected by the inconvenience Sophie put him through. "Hey, no worries. I'm just glad you gave me a few extra hours of your time."

"Well, I think I still have your phone number written down somewhere," Sophie said as she unbuckled her seat, her hand reaching to the door handle to open it. "I might call sometime tomorrow to see when your next day off is."

  
"Hey, Sophie?" Jason was able to ask, making Sophie pause. "I uh...I just want you to know that I really appreciate you coming to see me today."

  
Sophie's expression softened as Jason tried to process the right words to say. "I know it probably wasn't easy going back there with me, but I appreciate it. I know you're not comfortable talking about whatever happened, but...if you ever get more confident with talking about it, I'll be here to listen."

Sophie sat there silently; it frustrated her how badly she wanted to believe him, but she knew it would be too early to push her luck. With only a nod in gratitude, she got out of the car and walked back to her apartment. She knew what she did seemed rude, and only hoped Jason really was as patient as he seemed.

-  
  
While riding the elevator, she went through a list of things she needed to do through her head. Lock the door, grab whatever cannabis she had left in her room and pass out. In the headspace she was in, she would just have to wait till tomorrow to watch the tape again.   
  
Reaching the third floor, she slipped through the elevator and briskly walked down the right hall. This day was full of surprises-both good and bad, but as soon as she got back home, she could forget about them until tomorrow. Finally reaching her door, she unlocked and pushed the doorknob forward-   
  
  
_THUMP!_   


Looking down paralyzed her; peeking from the inside was a heavily taped box she had never seen before.


	5. Surprise Reunion Special

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer; after this chapter, this story will contain plot elements that are heavily influenced by headcanons I have regarding canon characters. For those that aren't into that, I'm glad you at least stuck around for this long. For those that are sticking around, I appreciate it greatly that I can tell the story that spawned after falling in love with the game.

The small, one-hitter pipe twitched between her lips. Whatever plans she had to relax tonight were ruined by the mysterious presence of this package. She had not moved from the couch since she placed the box on the coffee table and went to get her medication, her memory trying to retrace her steps to figure out how this delivery was even made in the first place.  
  
‘ _Is this from those creeps last night_?’ she pondered nervously, ‘ _I locked the window that night, I’m sure of it! And there’s no way they could have got in through the door_.’  
  
Waiting patiently next to the box was her pocket knife, adding fuel to the flames of her curiosity that her fear was trying to stoke. Everything about this scenario looked and felt like a threat; there were no labels, no words, just a beaten box of cardboard aggressively taped shut. No hint was given to the contents inside, making the idea of opening it feel life-threatening.  
  
Exhaling, she grabs the pipe from her mouth and empties out the ashes to a nearby tray. Perhaps instead of trying to figure out what was in it, she could deduct what it definitely couldn’t be. She could already rule out the worst-case scenario of the contents being human remains, the box would have been stained and sitting in a puddle by the time she came home.  
  
Taking the blade in her hand, she made a careful incision to the edge of the box. Sliding the knife slowly through the lid to release the tight bond from the adhesive. Right away, she was able to notice the strong musk one would only find in an attic.   
  
The nostalgic aroma was able to ease her worries of immediate danger, but the terror of what connection it had to her still lingered. Cautiously slicing through the rest of the tape, her hands tremble as she gradually parts the lid;  
  
“...Oh my god.”  
  
To anyone else, the contents of a peculiar stuffed rabbit laying on a pile of papers would be mistaken for a child’s toy. But Sophie knew who this was; This was Heckle, the once snarky, fun-loving friend from a show that never was. She had completely forgot how she lost him when she tried to evacuate the burning warehouse, and yet here he was with hardly a singe on his synthetic fur.  
  
Scooping him in her hands, Sophie embraced the puppet in a tight hug. Her eyes swelled from the heartache as streams of tears dripped from her chin, she had convinced herself that she would never be able to see him again but was overwhelmingly proven wrong. Feeling the hole in his back, she slipped her left hand inside and adjusted her fingers into his mouth plate.  
  
Sophie held Heckle steady, examining his condition again and toying with his expressions. “I thought I lost you forever...” She sobbed with a smile on her face, her hand making the rabbit respond in head tilts. Sophie didn’t have much experience with making him more expressive, but she would have all the time to learn now.  
  
...But something still felt off; Why did this package have Heckle of all things inside? There were only a few people involved with the pilot he was in, and most of them have since disappeared or died. How did this package even find its way inside her apartment?  
  
Her other hand fished out the papers inside, they didn’t look like letters, more like journal entries that were out of order. The writing was a shakey cursive that was still legible, a common style for the late puppeteer she mourned. Starting from the oldest date, she began to read from the pages;  
  
  
  
“ _Sept. 4th, Sunday,_ _  
__Raegan’s finally giving me a second chance to work with Sophie. I really hope its because she forgives me for what happened and not because I wore her down. If anything, it might make Mortimer’s mood better on set today, he hasn’t stopped asking me about her since Raegan pulled her out of Television to scout for movie roles. I miss her too, but Raegan’s dead set on giving Sophie a better future than herself. We have a few more scenes to shoot, but Sophie should be making regular visits to the set now to get herself acquainted with the crew._ _  
__  
__  
Sept. 10th Saturday_ _  
__Riley has been acting more aggressively during takes. The other’s think it’s her puppeteer, but I know its actually her. She hasn’t talked to me since she saw Rosco without the puppeteers inside of him. I think she’s hurt that her beloved companion can’t be with her all the time, but I keep telling her there’s not much I can do. To do what we did with her and the others would be too risky and we would need to find the right people. Thinking about it is giving me a really bad headache…_ _  
__  
__  
Sept. 19th, Monday_ _  
__Someone has been going through my office. Mortimer says it wasn’t him, but isn’t telling me who. He’s the only one I keep there, so he should be the one to know who goes in and out. He says he lets Nick Nack visit him sometimes, but when I talked to Jake he insisted he would never set foot in there. I’m so confused, why won’t Mortimer tell me anything? We’re supposed to be best friends."_ _  
__  
  
_  
Sorting through the pages was giving her more clarity, these were written before and during the production of her episode. Through his writing, it was clear that Owen was starting to lose the control he had over his creations, treating them more like people than they deserved. Flipping through the sorted mess, a longer entry with no date caught her attention.  
  
_  
**  
** “I come into work late, only to see Mortimer being puppeteered by one of the interns for the Kid Newz interview we were supposed to do. I don’t remember their name, but I could feel myself shaking with rage when I finally got a chance to pull them aside. I was going to absolutely lose it, but...then Mortimer spoke up. He said he didn’t want to wait for me so he got someone else._ _  
__I think that’s when I noticed the intern’s eyes, they were red from broken blood vessels. I took Mortimer off him immediately and he dropped to the ground like a rock. I’m still on edge over the whole thing, but we dragged him to the back alley and made it look like he was drinking. Mortimer assures me no one will question it...he didn’t give me a chance to check if he was still alive…”_  
  
  
Something about the last sentence made her skin crawl. The fact that his character seemed to have control over his rational thought was disturbing. All these notes were a clear sign of Owen completely losing himself, but...something wasn’t adding up.   
  


‘I don’t understand…’ Sophie thought to herself, ‘He was never like this before? Why didn’t he reach out to me about this when he had the chance? He knew I would have taken him seriously, so why? Why-’   
  
‘...why can’t I feel my arm?’   
  
Sophie looked away from the papers, meeting the small pupils of the puppet on her left arm. Heckle’s position had changed on its own and was staring right at her. His eyelids widened and his ears drooped on their own, his tiny body shivered nervously.   
  
Then he screamed. He screamed in a voice that was his own.   
  
Sophie could only scream back in horror, her fight or flight instincts kicking in as she reached for her pocket knife to protect herself. As soon as Heckle saw the knife, he tried to run away, only yanking the panicked woman with him. **“GAHH, DON’T HURT ME!”** The rabbit shrieked, **“DON’T KILL ME, I JUST WOKE UP! WHERE’S THE PHONE I’M CALLING 911-”**   
  
Heckle was sentient, scampering around the apartment, and being dragged on the floor against her will. If she didn’t get him to stop, he would unintentionally give her a concussion. Grabbing the arm of the couch, she was able to stop him and grab the frantic hare attached to her arm.    
  
“Hey, _hey!_ Stop that! Stop screaming!” Sophie snapped, trying to get a good grip on his ears and make him face her.    
  
His tiny paws tried to swat at her hands. “Ow! Stop, that hurts! I-If you don’t let me go, I’ll be forced to use **self-defense!** ” Heckle proceeded to launch his plush legs, grunting with every failed kick until slowly realizing how ineffective it was.    
  
“...Okay uh,” he mumbled, “M-Maybe if I get closer to you it would work-.” He hobbles closer and proceeds to kick her, the results were predictably embarrassing. “Oh... _well I’m really thumped, aren’t I?_ ”   
  
Sophie didn’t respond; her face was stuck in bewilderment over the anthropomorphic creature. Shivering, her hand fondles his face trying to get a grip on herself, which would have been easier if the aggravated noises he made sounded anything like her own. He sounded exactly like in the…    
  
Okay, no. This wasn’t actually happening right now. This was just a very bad hallucination from what she smoked. _“L-Laced weed, it’s gotta be,”_ she mumbled, _“Why the fuck did my dealer spike my weed?”_   
  
  
“Pretty sure weeds don’t have spikes on them.”   
  
  
There was a brief pause, Sophie had to process what the talking rabbit just said to her. “...What?”   
  
“Oh wait, you might be thinking of thorns then!” Heckle said as he continued with his misunderstanding, “Thorns are pretty spikey, so yeah, he might have given you something like thistles or those dandelions with the sharp leaves. Wait, why do you even want weeds?“   
  
“Okay, just…” She exhales deeply, trying her best to calm down. “I think we need to dial back here a bit-”   
  
“Oh of course! I was worried you wouldn’t give me a chance.” The stuffed hare clears his throat and straightens his bow tie. “So, Hello! I am Heckle the Hare! An aspiring performer, a rugged daredevil, and...also a Magician’s rabbit on the side-”   
  
“I already know who you are.” She interrupted before he could finish. “You were once my best friend...”


	6. Mortimer's Magic Mansion

It's times like these that made her remember how good she was at procrastinating. Had she cleaned her closet beforehand, it wouldn’t have taken an obnoxious time to find the tape. Of course, being attached to Heckle didn’t make it easier.  
  
“So you’re telling me you’re Claire?”  
  
“No, I said I _played_ as Claire.” She huffed, “My real name is Sophie.”  
  
“But...but you’re tall! Like really tall! Kind of scary too with those metal hoops coming out of your lip.”  
  
“Piercings!” She couldn’t help but roll her eyes at his comment as if she needed to be judged for her choice of appearance. “I played the role of Claire when I was around six years old, so there’s been a long gap between right now--” Her right hand suddenly felt plastic from the mountain of clothes, firmly pulling out the tape triumphantly. “ _\--And 1976_.”  
  
Sophie proceeded back into the living room, slipping the tape into her VHS player and grabbing the TV remote. “Thanks for making it easier to search my closet by the way,” Sophie remarks, sitting back on the couch and turning on the screen.  
  
“Hey, I wasn’t going to touch any of your stuff! I don’t know where you’ve been.” Heckle snapped back, “Besides, you’re doing an awful job at convincing me that you’re supposed to be…”  
  
  
His words trailed off as his attention became fixated on the cartoon intro. A Top Hat twirls and floats to the right side of the screen with a trail of sparkles following it. As it landed to the ground, a cheerful melody on the piano played as a young girl came in from the left. She was wearing a rainbow-striped shirt under a blue overall dress, her orange bobbed hair topped with a big white bow.  
  
“Wait, that...that’s her!” Heckle said excitedly, “That’s my best friend, Claire Voyannie! That’s what she’s supposed to look like!”  
  
Sophie exhaled through her nose; She forgot how dorky the full name was. The two watched as a curious Claire examines the top hat, only for it to shake and have a tall man emerge from the bottom. He was a stereotypical dandy with tufts of white flaring out from the sides of his head, a brass monocle over his right eye, and a smile that would give every rendition of the Cheshire cat a run for their money.  
  
Heckle pointed his paw to the screen like an excited child; “Oh him! And him! That’s Mortimer!”   
  
It most certainly was.  
  
A long kept secret by the veterans of Handeemen HQ; Mortimer’s first recorded appearance was for Owen’s long-term passion project. A show that would have focused on the whimsy and wonder over the world of fairytales and magic. Along with collaborating with local artists and musicians who were also greatly inspired by fantasy, _‘Mortimer’s Magic Mansion’_ was the textbook description of ambitious at the time.  
  
An unseen choir of children began to sing as Mortimer took off his hat (under it, another smaller tophat) and bowed towards the cheerful young girl;  
  
_  
“What marvelous things shall we do today,_ _  
__  
__When the sun is hiding in the clouds so gray?_ _  
__  
__There’s a place we can always go to play,_ _  
__  
__In Mortimer’s Magic Mansion!_ ”  
  
  
During the song, Mortimer waved his hand over the opening of the hat and pulled out a hare with flowers in his mouth. From the sight of Claire giggling and Mortimer shortly after scolding the rabbit, it was clear he was supposed to pull out a bouquet of flowers.  
  
“Look, there’s you,” Sophie said with a smirk. “Still a troublemaker as always.”  
  
Heckle proceeded to laugh from the sight of his animated self getting tossed next to Claire. “Well I can’t help if Mr. Fancy Pants over there used flowers I could eat, he should have thought of that beforehand!”  
  
They watched as Mortimer guided them towards the right as the background began to get drawn in; they passed many doors that would open and tease interesting characters, like an eye inside a crystal ball and two large monsters she remembered as ‘The Grumble Brothers’.  
  
_  
“Oh, the magic places we’ll explore within these very halls,_ _  
_ _  
__Will never fail to tantalize you with wonders big and small!_ _  
__  
__With Mortimer, we’ll always have so much fun,_ _  
__  
__Learning lots of magic till the day is done,_ _  
__  
__And even then, we’ve really only just begun,_ _  
__  
__In Mortimer’s Magic Mansion!”_ _  
_  
  
As the intro came to an end, the screen would fade into live-action, where the camera panned across a vibrant living room filled with curiosities over to the main character reading next to a tower of books. She remembered the plot of this pilot; It was Claire’s first day as the magician’s apprentice, and this scene was him finishing his research for today’s lessons. The rest of the episode would consist of those lessons, which usually resulted in Heckle distracting Claire.  
  
“This is so...so strange to see,” Heckle spoke in a daze, flabbergasted over the episode and remembering every detail. “It’s like a crystal ball projecting our lives into this magic box. I wish I knew ahead of time though, I would have put more of an effort into making things fun  
  
It was pleasant to watch, even though a lingering pain in her chest grew after every scene. This show was one of the few instances where she actually enjoyed acting as a kid. Pretending to be a magician’s apprentice and getting to interact with such a beautiful world? That was the pure epitome of heaven to her, but that heaven that would be tainted from the horrible events that followed after the recording of the last lesson…  
  
Sophie grabbed the remote and paused the tape, realizing how she could get Heckle to believe her. “Okay, I got it! Do you remember that I would recite weird poems in between takes?”  
  
“I don’t know what a take is,” The rabbit scratched under his chin, “but I do remember Claire talking to herself a bunch. I figured she was trying to remember spells.”  
  
“I used to say them to get myself better at pronunciations. I think you might remember this one...” She sat upright as she cleared her throat, trying to remember the tone she used specifically for her old character;  
  
_“Little baby Diller was a silly caterpillar,_ _  
__nibbled chilly mint leaves every day as his filler,_ _  
__when he bundled **for the winter, he wasn’t quite a thriller**_ ** _  
_**_**but when he left his cocoon, he became a lady killer**!”_  
  
Halfway through the poem, Heckle began to recite along with her. He gasped in surprise at the end. “C-Claire! Oh my gosh, it really is you!”  
  
The rabbit jumps on her lap and wraps his arms around her sides in a hug. Despite how weird it felt to feel pressure from a creature made of foam, his hug was soothing. She could almost swear that she felt something similar to a heartbeat from under all of that fur.  
  
“Gah! You don’t know how happy I am to finally see a friendly face, even though you look kind of different now! Things have been so scary since you disappeared!”  
  
Sophie gave the foam puppet a pat on his head as she hugged back. “Heh, you and I are both in the same boat. Things have been pretty sh-” She paused, choosing to refrain from swearing, “...Awful. Things have been pretty awful.”  
  
“Oh man, you’re telling me! I don’t know how I woke up here, but I’d rather be with you than with Mortimer. He’s been acting really scary recently!”  
  
Sophie’s body went stiff as her eyes widened in dread; pulling Heckle out of the hug, she looked down with concern. “Wait, no, that...that can’t be right. The building caught fire in the workshop, he and the others should have-”  
  
“ _Workshop?_ ” Heckle cocked his head, “I...I don’t think the mansion ever had a workshop, but I do know Mortimer is still alive.”   
  
Her face was frozen in dread as he continued. “I remember him waking me up by pulling me out of my tophat one day, but...he’s been acting really strange since then. He keeps demanding these answers from me, but I keep telling him I have no idea what he’s talking about. And then sometimes, he sends me to this crazy lady that does these...things to me. Awful, _painful_ things…” 

  
The poor rabbit shudders again, his eyelids lower as he looks back up to Sophie. “The last thing I remember...was running away from Mortimer. He was threatening to rip me apart, but I managed to give him the slip. I found a room I’ve never been in before and hid in a box full of papers. Everything after that was a blur, I was feeling very weak, _scared_ ...and sleepy.”  
  
Sophie turned her attention to the box and the papers scattered on the table, the room he entered might have been Owen’s office based on the contents. As she looked over the papers again, she suddenly noticed there was an envelope stuck to the bottom of the box. Pulling out and opening it revealed a familiar key and a note that was clearly written with haste.  
  
  
_“To whoever finds this letter, let this be my last act of redemption for the atrocities I have committed. Depending on where and when you found this letter, you are probably threatened by a danger that I have foolishly unleashed upon the world at this very moment. I must apologize, for I do not know the limit of their power and cunning. However, I have learned far too late how to dispel them from our realm._ _  
_ _  
_ _The key enclosed will open the door you must find. Within is a desk holding my research, and a tool I had hidden that will aid you in expelling the corrupted spirits within their bodies. It is too late for me now, he knows my every move. I only have-”_  
  
  
  
The note looked like it was cut off before he had time to finish it, and it was a no-brainer who wrote it.  
  
Sophie found herself reading the note several times over; if all of this was actually happening, and if she was reading everything correctly, then...this was promising an escape. A chance to finally find closure to her overly extended chapter of trauma. She would finally be able to move on…  
  
The sound of the video being unpaused and being fast forward brought her attention back to Heckle. His paws tapping the buttons on the remote. “Hey, how does this weird wand work? I wanna see if the magic box has projections of me doing my Thumpin’ Thinkin’ dance.”  
  
“Yeah, we’re not going to have time for that.” Sophie grabs the remote to turn off the TV. “We need to get ready to leave for the next bus.”  
  
She sat up and began to search for her backpack, leaving the companion stuck to her arm confused. “Oh c’mon! Things were just starting to get--Wait, what’s a bus? Is that something I should be worried about?”  
  
“Don’t worry, its just a form of transportation.” When she finds her bag, she goes back to the table, throwing the key, the note, her dugout, and her pocket knife inside. “We’re just going to go back and visit Mortimer.”  
  
“ **What** ?! Are you **crazy** ?!” It felt like her arm suddenly froze in place. Heckle moved up to her line of sight keeping her from moving any further. “Did you just forget about the part I told you? The part where Mortimer said he was going to **disembowel me with his own hands** ?! He’ll gut me alive if he finds me again!”  
  
She took a moment to think about the negative repercussions this could have. On the one hand, she really wasn’t looking forward to going back to the Warehouse in the middle of the night, but something about that letter provoked a spark of hope in her heart. If she was able to get rid of the memories that tormented her, then she needed to take this opportunity.  
  
“No, he won’t,” Sophie said, slinging the backpack over her right arm. “because you’re my best friend, and you’re going to stick with me the whole time.” She raises her hand in front of Heckle, offering an assuring shake. “Besides, I’m way bigger than he is now.”   
  
The rabbit hesitated; paws rubbing in uncertainty, but as he looked at Sophie’s determined expression, he began to nod and use both paws to shake her hand. “Well uh, if you really think you can take him, then lead the way, Claire!”  
  
“Great!” Sophie exclaimed. “Also no more of this _‘Claire’_ nonsense. My name is Sophie.”


	7. The Dirty Fork

He really hoped he didn’t fuck things over between them.   
  
The way she just left the car without saying a word might have been a sign that Jason was pushing his luck. Things were going so well at the diner, but he just had to be the one to come up with the idea of visiting the old warehouse with Sophie. He got too absorbed into reliving their past that he didn’t even consider her feelings on the matter.   
  
This sucked; All he wanted to do was connect with someone over an exciting experience from his childhood, and now it felt like he blew it.   
  
“Did you ever get a chance to pet him?”   
  
The voice of his soon-to-be daughter brought his thoughts back to the living room. Sitting in a blue tutu with toys scattered around her, her finger pointed to the living room television. Riley had Rosco holding up a chart of the periodic table in his mouth. “Did you get to pet Rosco while you were on the show?”   
  
“Ah...” Jason sat up, trying to think back. “Yeah, I...remember we were allowed to pet him. I don’t remember if I got a chance to, though.”   
  
Watching these old episodes was making him realize how surprisingly generic most of the show was. It was everything you needed in order to ride the coat-tails of every other educational children’s show, but it was those ‘human’ puppets that seemed to captivate almost everyone at the time. Even now, he could notice how Riley seemed to move so fluidly, but without a single string or rod was ever seen near her hands.    
  
“When we get a dog, I want it to be a yellow one that we can name Rosco.” She said, turning her sights back to the screen.   
  
“Yeah well, you might need to tell your Mom about that plan first. Just see if she’s okay with it-”    
  
Suddenly, he felt a buzz coming from his pocket. He was expecting a call from his boss to come in early tomorrow, but then he saw the number.

"Oh, I...need to take this call." Jason got up and made his way out to the hallway. "I'll be right back sweetie. If you need me, I'll be in the kitchen for a bit."   
  
“Bring back cheese crackers!” The little one yelled out.   
  
“Not until mom gets home!” Jason yelled before taking the call; “Hello?”   
  
“Jason, it’s Sophie.” 

  
“Hey, listen,” he sighed, fingers rubbing up the bridge of his nose. “I’m really sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable earlier. I should have explained that-”  
  
“Look, I’m not sure what you’re apologizing for, but it’s something you don’t need to worry about right now.” She interrupted, her tone sounding impatient, “If anything, I should be apologizing to you for the favor I’m about to ask.”  
  
“What favor?”   
  
-  
  
Sophie leaned back against the bus seat. “So I’m...going to be stepping out for a bit, probably won’t be back until tomorrow-”  
  
“Wait, right now? It’s almost ten pm!” Jason’s voice rang through her ear. “Where are you going so late?”  
  
She hesitated; rubbing her temple before realizing it would be easier if he wasn’t involved. “...Anyway, I didn’t have enough time to lock up. Do you still remember my address? I need you to go and lock up for me please?”  
  
With the tone of his voice, he didn’t sound too convinced. “Y-Yeah I guess, but...are you sure you’re okay? You sound really stressed.”  
  
  
“I’m fine-”  
“ **Can I come out yet?** ”  
  
  
“Wait,” Jason paused. “Is there someone with you?”  
  
Beads of sweat began to form on her forehead. Her eyes darted to her backpack where she stuffed Heckle before getting on the bus, giving him a firm nudge to stay quiet. “I’m on a bus. There’s just some people here...people being noisy.”  
  
“ **Jeeze, did you rent your bag out to a family of skunks or something? C’mon, open the bag a bit more-** ”  
  
“ _Shh, Shut up!_ ” Sophie hissed.  
  
Jason continued to prod for information; “They sound like they’re sitting next to you, are you sure you’re not in-”  
  
“I’m **good!** ” She snapped, “I deal with this shit on a regular basis, nothing here that I haven’t dealt with a million times.” As she slowly calmed down, she could feel her guilt crawling up her back. “...I’m glad you care enough to ask, but I promise i’ll be fine.”  
  
A silence followed; Sophie knew she was doing a horrible job at lying, but for once she was left looking for help. There was a chance her place could get invaded again, and Jason was the only person present in her life that could do this small task for her. She sighed again;  
  
“I know this is a huge inconvenience, but I don’t trust anyone else right now.”   
  
On the other line, she heard him give a long sigh before he finally spoke up. “I’m watching Mae right now, but would you be okay with me bringing her?”  
  
“Well, all you’re going to do is lock my door right?” Her fingers tapping against the phone in her hands. “My landlord never locks up the fucking place at night, its why its so cheap...and why I bought extra locks. You two will be able to go in and out like nothing happened.”  
  
“Well, alright...but you owe me another day to hang out for this.”   
  
She couldn’t help but smile from that. Things have a chance to get so much better, even though this thought was fueled by optimism and adrenaline. She was going to be an adult and finally cast away her childhood fears...somehow.  
  
“Jason, when I get back, I want to go visit the Museum.” A sly smirk began to creep on her face as she continued. “And then when we’re done, we’ll chill somewhere and I’ll tell you about the time I tried LSD and had nothing happen.”   
  
A warm laugh echoes through her phone. “Bullshit, you’ve never tried that stuff...have you?”  
  
“You’ll find out when I get back.” She snickers. “I’ll talk to you later…”  
  
After Jason said goodbye, she hung up and slipped her cellphone back into her hoodie. Turning over to the bag, Heckle had unzipped enough to peek out from the inside. He stared at her with his mouth gaped.  
  
  
“...You okay?”  
  
 _“You swore.”_  
  
  
“For fuck's sake…” Sophie threw her hand in the air.   
  
  
“Tw- **THREE!** THAT’S THREE TIMES YOU SWmmf-”  
  
She clamps his mouth shut and tries to shove him back into the bag. As the bus finally stops, she storms off trying to keep her squirming bag still. “You mind keeping your voice down?” She growls quietly. “Turns out I’m not the only one who can hear you, and wouldn’t you believe it, that’s even more disturbing.”  
  
“Oh jeez, there’s no way you’re going to get through to Mortimer with a sailor mouth like that!” The rabbit whimpered, trying to wiggle free from Sophie’s grip. “Is this even the right way? Where even are we?”  



	8. Perspectives for Puppets 101

They had got off only a block away from Ivy Avenue, the plan was to walk the rest of the way and go through the left-wing of the warehouse. The night was lifeless here; rows of street lamps were the only form of guidance through a plain of paved roads and sidewalks. Most of the buildings were beyond the radius of the light, their large silhouettes a far more daunting presence than earlier that day.  
  
  
Sophie removed the backpack off Heckle as she unzipped and slung it over her right arm. The rabbit coughed and sputtered as if he had some form of functioning pair of lungs. “You know the next time you suggest hiding someone in your backpack, would it kill you to **clean** the bag first?”  
  
  
“ _To be fair,_ ” Sophie replied, “having to hide a talking animal is not an everyday thing for me...or for anyone really.”   
  
  
Heckle cleaned his face off with his paws, his eyes adjusting to the light above them. As he surveyed his surroundings, he couldn’t help but feel on edge. “Are you sure this is the right way, Sophie? I don’t remember any of this being near the mansion…”  
  
  
“ _You’re really having a hard time adjusting to what’s reality, aren’t you?_ ” Sophie huffed impatiently, “Mortimer’s Magic Mansion was _never a real place_ , it was all a show. You, Mortimer, my role as Claire, we were all just playing roles. Fictional characters for a fictional world.”   
  
  
“But...but I have memories!” Heckle stammered, “Fond, _fun_ memories of us all getting along and living happily together in the manor! Why would I have those if they never happened?”  
  
  
Sophie had to think about that. This was getting into some weird, philosophical territories that she wasn’t sure they were both ready for. How exactly does one tell a fictional character that they are fiction without having them freak out?  
  
  
“...You remember everything that happened that day right? The day featured on the tape?”  
  
  
“Well _sure_!” Heckled nodded, “All the scenes that featured me I remember perfectly!”  
  
  
“Do...you have any memories of the day _after_? _Or even the day before_?”  
  
  
She watched Heckle’s mouth open and shut; it was the first time since he came alive that he had no idea what to say. She watched as his fleece eyelids squint trying to look back, but by the way that he shook his head, it was clear his mind was coming to a complete blank.   
  
  
“There...there should be.” He mumbled in concern, “Everything between here and now feels so... _fuzzy_. No pun intended-”  
  
  
“I know for a fact that’s a lie, but go on.”  
  
  
“But I swear they have to be!” He looked up at her, his sad expression trying to tug at her heartstrings. “How else do I remember digging up mandrakes with Claire, or the taste of the tea I swiped from Mortimer when he wasn’t looking?”  
  
  
Sophie gave an exhausted sigh, perhaps this wasn’t the right approach for him. It was clear he wasn’t going to take all this information well, so maybe she needed to spin a more digestible concept. She stopped walking and tried to think of ideas…  
  
  
“You know...maybe you could actually be Heckle.”  
  
  
The Rabbit’s ears perked up, confused. “I already am Heckle!”  
  
  
“No I mean,” She runs her right hand through her hair, freeing a few strands from her ponytail. “Like, um...you used to mess up a lot of the spells Claire and Mortimer performed right? Maybe what happened is the spell accidentally sent you... _here?_ A world that has the same people you remember but...different?”  
  
  
This was a complete stretch and she knew it. She was never into these weird, philosophical topics like parallel realities, but it felt better than reminding him constantly that he shouldn’t technically exist. Heckle slowly nodded the more he took her 'theory' into consideration;

"Yeah... _yeah,_ that must be what happened!"

'Oh thank God he bought it.' Sophie thought, reassuring him with a smile as they continued to walk. He had the mentality of a five-year-old, but it was nice to hear him happy again.

"Cause I mean, Mort's usually pretty tough on me, but he was NEVER that bad. I wonder what happened to make _this_ Mortimer act so nasty…"

As they turned the corner, they were greeted by their destination. Compared to what she saw during the day, the building had a far more intimidating aura under the cover of night. It was no wonder how so many of those urban legends and rumors could spawn, the studio was literally a standing corpse of her generation's memories.

"Yeah…" Sophie mumbled with fear in her breath, "I'm getting curious too…"

-

Despite the city's top-notch efforts to stop people from trespassing, this didn't seem to stop squatters and vandals from climbing over the standard chain link fence. Again, another task that would have been easier had she still had a left arm, but she doubted Heckle would have the upper body strength to carry a fully grown woman if the time ever came. With the hard part done, they made their way to the windows of the burnt down workshop.

"Huh...kinda strange this is the only half of the building caught on fire…" Heckle said, sniffing the air.

"If I remember correctly," Sophie replied, "most of the left-wing was a late add-on when Owen bought the building for his studio." 

"Who's Owen?"

"Wait, what? You don't-" Sophie was about to go off but stopped, remembering she had to explain things differently to Heckle. "Right sorry, you don't know him. He's...he's my uncle. Not by blood or anything, just...we knew each other."

"Wait, I'm confused…" he said while scratching the back of his head, "Why are we at your uncle's place? I thought we were looking for Mortimer, not a, what did you call it... _ stoodium _ ?"

"Studio. And we're here because this _is_ where Mortimer should be…" 

Approaching one of the windows, she was quick to spot a window sill that was free of glass shards. She gripped the sill to test its durability before hopping inside the wreckage. The crunch of the charred floor echoed as the soot billowed beneath her feet.

"At least in this world, Owen and Mortimer were once close friends. Though, I never understood why he liked him so much…"

She turned to the sound of Heckle going through a coughing fit from the building's dirt and decay. 

"Hah, I guess we have something in common then! I'm the same way, but with Claire. I don't know why she's so eager to have him teach her magic and stuff. Learning is fine I guess, but...sometimes, you have to go out and have fun too..."

With cautious steps, they tread through the remains of the workshop. It was near identical to her dream, but the main entrance was caved in and the fluorescent lights looked dead. Climbing over the rubble, Sophie could make out faint lights peeking from the other side of the blocked hall.

"Damn...this was the only way into the left-wing." Sophie rasped, "We're going to have to find another way in…"

"How about that door over there?"

Sophie groaned and turned her head over to him, "Heckle, I literally just said this was the only-" 

She stopped mid-sentence; on the left side of them was an installment she would have only seen in bad science fiction movies. A door haphazardly made with shrapnel and bolts, along with a strange screen attached to it.

"How...do you even know _that's a door_?"

"I've seen those doors before…" Heckle stammers. " _They were made by that really scary lady._ "

The two climbed off the rubble and examined the digital screen. It displayed a pixelated mitten, hinting that the mechanism was looking for a specific handprint. She was tempted to try it, but something told her that her hand would be to-

**"BZZZT!"**

Sophie flinched, her eyes darting towards the rabbit. His little paw taps the screen again, expecting a different result.

**"BZZZT!"**

"Stop touching it!" Sophie snapped, trying to swipe his paw away.

"But that's how the lady opens the doors!" Heckle argued back, "I don't know why it's not working for me, it's not like she had a key or anything!"

"Well has it occurred to you that you probably need thumbs!?" She yelled out sarcastically, pointing to the digital handprint.

Heckle paused to stare at his paws in disbelief before looking back up at Sophie;

"WOW...that is a really inconsiderate way to design a door! That's discrimination right th-"

The Rabbit immediately stopped talking as his ears perked up high. Eventually, Sophie's own ears were able to pick up the creaking of wood above them.

" _...I don't think we're alone right now._ " Heckle whispered. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those that are enjoying the story so far, I have a little treat for you!  
> https://buglii-muligans.tumblr.com/post/613436541662068736/found-footage-x


	9. The Spider and the Fire Fly

Their eyes were locked on the nest of planks that was once part of the second floor. They could see soot spill from the groaning debris, but whatever was causing the disturbance was secluded by the darkness above. The vague flashbacks from last night’s dream began to taunt Sophie’s mind, but she needed to keep rational in this irrational situation.  
  
 _  
“D-Do you think it’s Mortimer?”_ Heckle stammered nervously, _“Or maybe the scary lady?”_   
_  
_ _  
“Of course not, they don’t have legs.”_ Sophie began to back away slowly from the door; a nervous sweat tracing down her forehead. _“It’s probably just a raccoon or something…”_   
  
  
A woman’s haughty giggle responded to her comment.   
  
  
She quickly turned her back, catching a glimpse of vibrant colors slinking back up the ceiling.   
Her back slammed against the door as she tried to step away from the threat. As she hissed in pain, the giggle returned to mock her blundering.   
  
  
Heckle shivered hard enough for Sophie to feel. _“That...That must be a very effeminate Raccoon.”_   
  
  
The door must have been made from a thin metal because Sophie could hear voices and footsteps coming from the other side. “Shit, we need to hide.” She hissed looking for any form of cover. There were no convenient tables to hide under this time, only an empty closet missing a door. Slipping inside, she covered herself as much as she could with the remaining door... 

“Uh, I think whatever is stalking us knows where we’re hiding,” Heckle whispered dryly.  
  
  
“That’s not the only thing in the building.”   
  
  
They could hear the door activate and open. Heckle quietly peeked over the closet door and his eyes widened. “Oh no,” He whimpered “it's those kids again…”   
  
  
“Wait, I’m sorry, kids?” She hissed back in confusion. Did she just have the shittiest luck to explore her traumatic childhood while a group of vandals were screwing around-   
  
  
“Yeah, they were made by the scary lady I think. Weird too for having their bodies be so tiny.”   
  
  
  
“...Having their bodies be- What the fuck are you talking abo-?”   
  
  
  
Heckle shushed her, his ears twitching as he tried to listen to the faint mumbling. She was starting to get anxious over what was happening, she wanted to look but knew she had to stay hidden. She would have to rely on her hand puppet to tell her when it was safe.   
  
Eventually, it became too much for her. “What’s going on?” She whispered, “Can you hear them?”   
  
  
“Barely.” Heckle looked back briefly. “Could you try calming down a bit, it's hard to hear with your heartbeat blasting in my ears.”   
  
  
Heckle’s hearing must be surprisingly strong, but then again it felt like her heart was taking a jackhammer to her ribcage. As she breathed through her nose as quietly as she could, she closed her eyes trying to think of something that would calm her down.   
  
  
What she wanted to imagine didn’t end up showing, what she ended up seeing was a blur that was coming into focus…   
  
  
...It was the doorway?   
  
  
Her eyes bolted open; Heckle suddenly flinched, as if something had just bopped him on the head. “W-Woah, uh, whoops. I kind of zoned out there for a second, not a good time…”   
  


  
‘Wait...did we just-’   
  
  
  
Sophie closed her eyes again, trying not to freak out as her vision was transferred from her eyelids towards a different perspective of the closet. Her eyes darted; looking around was almost making her feel dizzy. That’s when she looked down and realized her hands were replaced with...paws?   
  
  
She wanted to scream, but nothing came out. Whatever was going on right now, it was clear she had some sort of control of her fuzzy companion. She was tempted to look and see if she was able to see herself through his eyes…   
  


A young voice rang out;

  
“So uh, yeah, false alarm. I don’t see anything that could...cause harm?”   
  


Followed by someone on a walkie talkie;

  
“Very good scouting, and acceptable rhyming, but you’re not done here yet, you have perfect timing...”   
  
Wait, she could hear them clearly now. Taking Heckle’s place, she peeked over to see a familiar face or lack thereof. It was one of the people from the van last night, the stranger dressed fully in black. Their right hand held a walkie talkie, while the other-   
  
‘Wait...the fuck?’

  
Was that what Heckle meant by a kid? That's clearly a puppet stitched onto their left arm. Were these creeps just some sort of Puppet Cult? She had no idea what the hell was going on anymore…

"M-Miss Ruckus," the child mumbled, "I thought it was Bobby's turn this week to-"

" **Progress** does not follow a scheduled plan!" The walkie talkie buzzed furiously, leaving the puppet startled. " _It's a priority to find Daisy as soon as we can_."

The poor kid gulped as the human hand bonks their head with the radio, making their face literally light up like a lantern. 

As they patrolled the hall nervously, Sophie opened her eyes again and pulled her rabbit friend into hiding. Both were able to see the puppeteer pass them, clearly too stressed to be paying close attention. The sounds from the ceiling returned, making the puppet guard flinch.

"Um, s-so what exactly is the plan?" The child-like voice stuttered. "Cause I'd like to leave as soon as possi- wait, I mean, leave as soon as I can!"

"She needs to be brought back for reconstruction. That way, we can make up for our lack of production." They were so close that they could hear the radio perfectly. "When you find her, you just need to give her the radio. I'm...confident I can talk her back into the status quo."

Sophie could feel Heckle shivering; both of them were familiar with that voice. 

_Riley Ruckus_ ; once the most popular science education icon since Bill Nye. Sophie couldn't help but wonder if the actual puppet was on the other line, or if this strange group of people squatting in Handeemen HQ just adopted the persona. Whoever it could be, it disturbed her how spot on the voice was…

Suddenly, the noise from above got louder. The puppet trembled as it began to frantically look for the source. "I-I'm sorry Miss Ruckus, but I don't feel safe in here. I can take any punishment if y- **AAUGH!** "

A part of the rubble above showered the puppeteer with soot and chunks of charcoal, but that wasn't why they were screaming. Sophie and Heckle could barely make out the glint of what looked like metal rods puncturing the shoulders and back. Despite this unusual accident, the puppeteer miraculously never broke character.

As the puppet child sobbed, Riley responded with agitation; " **Report!** What's going on? Did you see her? _Where has she gone?_ "

The puppet seethed as if its own body was damaged as the puppeteer felt around its wounds. "I-I don't see anyone, it was just some debris-"

The puppeteer went stiff. The right hand had found one of its wounds, but ended up feeling something that Sophie and Heckle could barely see. When the glowing child turned to examine, they were able to see thin black lines connected to them.

_"Wait...hold on, what just got stuck onto m **eEEEEEE** **!!** "_

The puppeteer's body was suddenly hoisted into the air, the puppet screaming as the feminine laughter from earlier shrieked in delight. The walkie talkie they were holding plummeted to the ground as the scientist on the other end was left frustrated in the dark. 

"Zig-Zag? Zig-Zag report!

…

Ugh, okay well, great. We're one look-out short…

**AGAIN!** "

_KRRTZ!_

With the coast finally clear, the two intruders crawled out of hiding and back into the hall. Unfortunately, this supposed 'Zig-Zag' was smart enough to lock the door before dying. They were now back to square one.

"Okay _so_ ," Heckle said as he predictably broke the silence, "I know we probably just saw a child get eaten alive by some kind of spider raccoon lady, but...what the _thump_ just happened with us earlier?"

Sophie scratched at the back of her head. "I...I had control over you again, but I think I was seeing through your eyes." She looked down at him, not really knowing what else to really say.

"Did...you actually feel that too?"

"Yeah, it was WEIRD!" Said Heckle; "It felt kind of like your brain came over to my brain's house, but the two of them got crammed in the door at the same ti-"

_Spl-t~_

**"GAH-HA! GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF!"**

The rabbit freaks out as something wet and thin falls on his face. With a disgruntled sigh, Sophie peels off the unknown object. "Oh, would you relax? It's just a piece of-"

"...Uh."

Upon further inspection, the object was none other than a severed plush arm. Its color matched the former child puppet while the stains of red belonged to its puppeteer. "Oh...oh jeez," the rabbit shuddered, "Please don't tell me that will happen to us…"

Sophie looked back at the toy hand, then back at the door. Approaching the screen she presses the mitten-like palm down, resulting in the machine's approval. As the door opens, she peers into an almost familiar room.

"Honestly? I don't know what's capable of happening anymore." She sighed. 

The door closed behind them as they crept their way inside. It took Sophie a moment to realize that this new door led them into the old conference room, and the door into the left wing's hall was on the right. Approaching the next door she reached for the handle but hesitated.

"Aren't we gonna go through Claire? Oop!" Heckle covered his mouth realizing his mistake. "Sorry, you like Sophie now right?... Sophie?"

Sophie didn't respond; only looking back around the room, remembering the conversation that took place between the only two people in her life…


	10. Time In a Bottle

"They like your Mortimer character...a lot actually. So that's one plus…"

Her mother already had a lit cigarette out; a clear sign of just how angry she was. Still, she reserved her anger while talking business with Owen. She had her back turned to the creator, who sat near her and was riddled with guilt.

"Raegan...I'm _really_ sorry-"

"Business first, Owen." She snapped, taking a long drag from her smoke. "I mean for fuck's sake, it's why I took the time to drag those stiffs out here."

Sophie spied from the crack in the door. She was told to wait outside while her mom had a talk with Owen over the pilot. Her eyes were still red and stinging from tears, the result of an aggressive scolding from her mom.

She watched her take a few steps closer to an ashtray on the table as she flicked the excess off. "The magic motif you had was cute up till that last bit, but even if you _didn't_ intend for that last scene to show up, the theme wouldn't have been accepted anyway."

Owen looked up to her, sounding clearly hurt. "Look I...I admit I went too far, but you can't seriously tell me a show about magic would be bad for kids. Children love magic and fantasy." 

"Probably, but definitely not their parents." Her fingers grind and discard the filter onto the porcelain dish. "And if that last scene was any reflection on what other ideas you had, those _nut jobs_ in Christian Broadcasting would gut you alive."

Her mom turned back to Owen, her face was completely drained from stress and the repressed need to yell. "You're so lucky I was able to make them think the blood was fake and that the scene was just some inside joke you wanted to share. So again, you're welcome."

_"Raegan please,"_ Owen stammers, "I know what you saw was...really shocking, and I completely understand why you're upset-"

Her mother slams her palm against the table as she stares daggers into the startled man.

"Okay, you really want to get to how I feel so bad? Fine then! Why the **FUCK** would you make Sophie do that?"

_"It...it was a last-minute idea, I don't know what came over me,"_ Owen said, failing to stand his ground. _"But...but Sophie said it was fine, she wanted to do it."_

"Of course she would fucking say that! Sophie's been so fucking crazy about you since you two met!" Her mother fishes out the cigarette box and her lighter as she continues to yell at the man. 

"But she's a fucking six year old! Why would you make a **FUCKING SIX YEAR OLD CUT OPEN HER HAND ON CAMR-** "

Sophie closed the door and sat down on the other side of the wall; she didn't want to hear the argument anymore.

It hurt trying to hold back the tears; It wasn't fair. The one time she was actually having fun with acting, and it all came crumbling down because of a mix up between the tapes. All that great work with Owen was now for nothing, and now she probably wasn't allowed to see him anymore.

What Owen said earlier was true, she did agree to do that scene. When he told her about the last spell Claire and Mortimer were going to perform, it sounded really exciting. It was a bit scary that she needed to use a real knife to draw the symbol Owen wanted on her hand, but he was there to comfort her during the entire process.

They were able to do it in one take too...though her memory was fuzzy during the recording. Even when she watched the scene again with her mom and the executives, she almost couldn't remember half of the stuff she saw. The fog machine malfunctioned, the lights offset were flickering, and she could even hear the crew off-screen begin to react in panic while Sophie and Owen ( while playing Mortimer) kept chanting.

It was...an admittedly weird scene for Owen to want, especially looking back at it now. She didn't want to focus on that though, everything else about his show was amazing, and she didn't want it to be the end…

Sophie looked at the scar on her hands; originally hiding under some makeup until her mom found out. She was used to her mom getting frustrated with her, but how she yelled at her for lying sent Sophie straight into tears. Her mother would never understand why she went through with it though, she would think the reason why was stupid and immature.

She was never allowed to be immature in front of her...or anyone really.

The yelling gradually ceased; Sophie went over to peek again but stopped after she heard how close her Mom was to the door. She spoke with exhaustion;

"You're not at a total loss though. That card I gave you should have the number of the creative team they want to put you in. I'm sure with their help you can reinvent the characters you already have to something more... _audience-appropriate_."

As her mom opens the door, she stops to look at Sophie. The new cigarette in her mouth twitched as she furrowed her brow towards her daughter. Sophie wipes her eyes clean with her sleeve, trying to hold back her emotions.

"We're going home now." She spoke flatly. "When we get there, you are going to stay in your room for the rest of the night. After that, no cable for a week."

"I want to say goodbye to Uncle Owen." Sophie sniffed, trying to match her mother's glare.

"Stop calling him that!" Her mother snaps, "Do you honestly think this is up for negotiation? The best I'm going to allow is a phone call tomorrow-"

"If this is the last time I'm going to see him, then I want to say goodbye properly!" Sophie could feel herself getting ready to break down. Things never ended well when she tried to argue back at her mother, but she felt she deserved one last chance to see the man she quickly grew to idolize.

Luck must have finally given Sophie a break; as her mother took the cigarette from her mouth, she moved out of Sophie's way and leaned on the wall next to the door.

"Two minutes." She said as she rubbed at her forehead. "Make it quick."

Sophie turned her head over to the conference room; Owen still sat in the same place on the far side of the room but was now fully slumped over the table. It broke her heart to see such an amazing adult look so broken and defeated. 

She quickly walked up to him and placed her hand on his shoulder. "Mr. Gubberson?"

His head sprang back up; looking dazed as if he had just been woken up from a dream. He turned to face Sophie, wiping at his reddened eyes with his palm as he sniffed.

"Oh, uh...Hey, kiddo…" Owen mumbled.

"I'm really sorry the show didn't work out." The young actress spoke sadly. Her feet shuffling on the ground as she lowered her head.

The creator just shook his head as he feigned a smile, "I should be the one apologizing, I...I should have never made you do that to yourself."

"You didn't though, I was fine with-" 

Owen raised a hand to stop Sophie before she could finish. He spoke softly as he gave a gentle pat to Sophie's shoulder. " _Regardless_ of the fact we both agreed to perform the scene, we should have never lied to your mother…I should have never pushed that kind of responsibility on you in the first place."

Sophie couldn't help but ball her hands into fists, holding back the urge to cry in front of her idol. 

"I d-don't want to leave though," she choked out, "I don't c-care if I got hurt, you're the o-only one I've felt comfortable working with!"

"Sophie, please calm down…" By the look on Owen's face, her voice might have been loud enough for her mother to hear outside. She tried to take a few deep breaths for him before speaking more quietly;

"Can...can't I just run away and live here?"

Owen exhaled in distress as he ran his hand through his scraggly hair. "Sophie, no-"

"Please?" She begged quietly, "I don't want to do acting anymore, I want to help you with Mortimer and learn how to use puppets! I could just live on the set on the third floor and no one-"

Owen hushed her again; finally getting off the chair to lean down and give Sophie a hug. Sophie hugged back tightly, hyperventilating against his shoulder as he patted her on the back. 

"I would never take you away from your mom. I know you think she can be harsh sometimes, but she does it because she cares about your well-being. And honestly, I wish I had that more when I was growing up…"

"One Minute!" The voice of Sophie's aggravated mother echoed from outside. 

As he continued to hold Sophie, her sobbing began to gradually fade. A moment would pass before suddenly Owen let go and stood up and whispered; "Hold on, I have something for you…"

He walked over to the projector to eject the pilot from the VCR, walking back to Sophie to present the tape to her. He continued to whisper, "I was going to keep this copy for myself...but I want you to have it instead. I think you and I are the only people that will ever appreciate what we managed to make together..."

Sophie's hands reached up to take the videocassette, examining the funny looking symbols he used. Her eyes glanced over to the last symbol that matched the scar on her hand, making her wonder…

_"...Do you think the spell actually worked like you said it would?"_ Sophie whispered back.

Owen kept still; the subtle movements in his eyes showed the man going over the memory of that day. After looking towards the door for a moment, he leaned back down to Sophie's level.

_"I-I'm pretty sure it did."_ Owen muttered, _"Earlier before you came in, I...swear I could actually hear him...talking to me through my thoughts."_

Sophie's eyes widened as he continued to whisper, "H-He sounds exactly like how I imagined him but...but flawlessly! None of my stammering or anything to get in the way of his character, just...absolute perfection. Just like he deserves."

The little actress smiled softly, she was happy that she could help her idol in such an impactful way, even though she had no idea how she was able to help. The belief in magic was killed off long ago by her mother and her introduction to movie magic, but Owen was one of the few people that made her want to believe in it again…

**"Thirty seconds Sophie!"** her mom called out again, "Wrap this up already."

She turned back to Owen, giving him one last look of her smile "When I become my own adult, I'm going to come back to help you with your new show. I promise!"

Owen finally cracked with a genuine smile towards her, nodding his head in approval. "I don't know how your mom would feel about that, but that sounds good to me."

Sophie proceeded to slip the tape under her overall dress, hugging herself to keep the tape hidden and discreet. She turns, getting ready to head towards the door before Owen's hand reaches out to her shoulder.

"Wait, I…" he stammers, "I have one last thing to ask from you…"

As she looked back to him, she could see his face had changed back to its default, weary state. He looked to her with his sad eyes and told her;

_“You have to promise me you won’t tell anyone else about this tape. No one will ever understand...”_

  
  



	11. Meet and Greet

"...Sophie? Hey!"

Sophie flinched roughly as if she was pulled out of her memories by force. She looked over to the rabbit as her free hand rubbed at one of her watering eyes. "Sorry, I don't know what came over me."

"Wait...are you crying?" Heckle's paw reached over to touch her cheek. "Is something wrong? Do you want to talk about-"

"No."

With that, she opened the door and went into the hall. Turning left, she was greeted with the sight of more debris blocking their path just a few steps ahead. The wall to the right side had been destroyed, revealing a way around their obstacle. Sophie kept her eyes forward as she walked through the maze of old office rooms.

Heckle had been looking at her with concern since they left the conference room. "Are you sure? Talking about it might make you feel better y' know."

"It wouldn't." She said, "All it will do is get me worked up over shit that already happened, and then we would just be wasting more time here."

"But...it doesn't sound like it's a good idea to hold it in either," Heckle replied, her arm moving him closer to her head. "Please, I just want to help you. I mean, we're technically friends even if you are a different version of Clar-"

Sophie stopped in her tracks and finally snapped. "Stop calling me that! I am not some different version of her, I am just SOPHIE!"   
  
  
Her nostrils flared while gritting her teeth, but her rage was cut short over the sight of her companion flinching back down and trembling over her outburst.  
  
  
“I-I swear, I wasn’t going to call you that. I’m sorry…”   
  
  
She could feel her regret from the pit of her stomach. Thinking back to what he was trying to say a few moments ago made her realize her error. “Look, it’s fine. Just...I really can’t stand being called that…” She mumbled shamefully.  
  
The two stood silently for a moment. Guilt continued to eat away at her conscience until Heckle suddenly broke the silence between them.

“Could...could I ask you something?”   
  
  
“Ask what?” Sophie replied.   
  
  
“Did...you not like being Claire?”   
  
  
  
Sophie was waiting for an answer to pop into her head, but she was left silent.   
  
  
“Just...the Claire I know is a nice girl.” Heckle continued. “She’s always there to cheer you up, help you with any problems, even sneaking an extra treat from the tea tray when no one is looking for you. She’s a wonderful person in my eyes, so...I guess I don’t understand why you don’t like her…”   
  
  
Hearing the rabbit’s kind words made Sophie want to vomit. He wasn’t wrong, but it was painful to remember how better things were back then. Unlike her other roles, she didn’t have to fake anything for Claire, she was just...herself. Just like she always was with Owen, and just like how he encouraged her to be.   
  
  
But Sophie wasn’t that girl anymore. To her, Claire died that same night Owen did…   
  
  
“I don’t...hate her.” Sophie finally replied, “She’s just connected to a lot of mistakes I’ve made...and a lot of regrets I still have.”    
  
  
She slung the backpack hanging on her right side. The lack of her left arm made it difficult to locate her wooden dugout, but she managed to fish it out from the empty bag. Her teeth grit against the slim metal pipe that falls out from one compartment, using her mouth to stuff fresh herb into the tip of the pipe.    
  
  
Heckle’s nose began to twitch, he sniffed at the box before moving away in repulsion. “Wait, is THAT what was making your bag stink? What even is that stuff? It doesn’t smell all that nice...”   
  
  
“Medicine.” She grunts. She closes the wooden container and swaps it for the lighter in her pocket. “I told you that talking about this shit gets me worked up, now I need to take the edge off before we continue.” Her thumb flicked the wheel, trying to ignite a flame from the cheap contraption.   
  
  
  
“ **PUT THAT THING AWAY THIS INSTANT!** ” 

  
  
Sophie jumped, the lighter slipping out of her grasp while she frantically scanned around her. Before she could ask Heckle if he saw anything, the shivering bunny pointed his paw towards a hole in the ceiling. From the faint light located somewhere above, they could make out the silhouette of what looked like a doll at first glance. As the figure peered their head down to get a closer look at them, Sophie felt her stomach drop as she finally recognized their giggling spectator.   
  
Sweet fucking christ... _ that  _ was Daisy Danger.   
  
“Oh dearie me! I didn’t scare you, did I?” Daisy’s voice fluttered innocently. “I couldn’t let you use that...that hazardous thing in here. So...that’s why!” 

  
Sophie gulped hard, her eyes were frozen on the puppet above as she slowly tried to back away. Sensing that his friend was too afraid to speak, Heckle decided to speak on her behalf;   
  
“We’re sorry ma’am. Y-you’re right, we shouldn’t be lighting a fire in here, so I think me and my friend will go outsi-”   
  
“One moment.” The puppet woman reaching out a wooden arm urging them to stop. “You...sound like someone I know. Have we...met before? I feel like we have.  _ Oh _ ! Were you part of our show?”   
  
“Show?” Heckle stammered.   
  
“ _ Mortimer’s Handeemen _ .” Sophie tried to rasp quietly into Heckle’s ear.   
  
“Oh! See? Your talking host understands!” Daisy cheers as she points to Sophie. “Hm, so if you weren’t on the show with us, perhaps-” The puppet suddenly gasps in unhinged delight. “ **Would you two happen to be** **_fans_ ** ?”   
  
“Yes.” Sophie blurted out anxiously.    
  
Although she didn’t consider the full implications of saying ‘yes’, she sure as hell didn’t want to say ‘no’ towards the infamously tempered Daisy. While the hidden puppet clapped and bounced with excitement, they were able to notice how uneven the party planner’s left side was. It looked like a mound of fur was draped over her shoulder, or maybe it was wrapped around her whole arm?   
  
  


“Oh, I’ve SO missed being able to greet all our lovely guests! We don’t get much company these days since…” Her voice trails off for a moment, going into a giggle that sounded both hysterical and upset. “But let’s change the subject, I have a few requests!”

"Requests?" The two asked in unintentional unison.

"Yes, well, it's more like an invitation! Because new friends like you deserve a celebration!"

Sophie almost lost her balance as the puppet suddenly began to crawl towards them from the ceiling. From the faint light above, the two caught a haunting glimpse of their unhinged pursuer. The fur mound on the left moved in sync with a second arm below as it crawled over the ravaged ceiling. The sight of Daisy’s charred head sent a paralyzing chill down the former actor’s spine.  
  
 _  
  
“It would be a shame to have our guests pass by..._ ** _without having a bite of my famous, home-made pies!~_** _”_  
  
  
  
Daisy loomed right above them; the robust aroma of spoiled meat and rusted copper assaulted their nostrils. Sophie's eyes were adjusting to the dark at the worst time possible. Now she had to bear witness to a mouth filled with screws, oozing a rancid liquid and curled into a permanent smile.  
  
  
“What fla-”  
  
  
Heckle didn’t have enough time to ask his question before Sophie slapped her hand over his mouth and took over;  
  
  
“We’re _really_ not hungry.”  
  
  
“Ohhh please, won’t you reconsider? It would be such a delight!” The puppet’s monstrous, tri-colored hand slowly reached down, ready to grab a hold of the petrified punk by the head.  
  
  
  
“ _Besides, you wouldn’t want to be rude and go upsetting me...right?_ ”  
  
  
  
There was no way they could get out of this through talking; this was a fight or flight situation.  
  
  
Without really putting much thought into her next move, Sophie grips the furry arm by the wrist and rips Daisy down, throwing the puppet away from her before bolting in the opposite direction. Sophie couldn’t look back but knew from the sound of shrieking and limbs scrambling across the floor that the throw did nothing more than enrage the Homemaker.  
  
  
“Is she following us?” Sophie huffed to Heckle.  
  
  
“You want me to look BACK?!” Heckle huffed back in shock, his plush legs kicking wildly into the air as if he was fleeing alongside her. “WE SHOULD BE RUNNING!”  
  
  
“I’M THE ONE WHO’S MOVING US DAMMIT!” Sophie yelled. “YOU’VE GOTTA BE OUR EYES!”  
  
  
Now fully aware she was right, the hare pops his head over Sophie’s shoulder to watch for their stalker.   
  
  
“She’s either really slow or just standing there menacingly-Oh! I think maybe she got stuck!” Heckle reported with optimism. Despite their lead, Sophie didn't feel the need to slow down from the very real abomination.  
  
  
“Yeah, she’s pulling something from a pile that probably in her w...wait-”  
  
 _THH-MMPH!_  
  
  
The girl howled a mouthful of profanity as something sharp grazed her right arm, a metal pole zipped past them and punctured the wall up ahead. Snapping her head back around, she managed to catch the sight of Daisy reeling herself back up through the hole to the second floor. She made her displeasure known while she hunted them from above;

" **WRETCHES! PESTS! HOW DARE YOU SPIT ON MY HOSPITALITY!** "

Another metal rod is lunged at the duo, then two more. Sophie and Heckle are sent scrambling through a maze of rooms and halls while avoiding the storm of shrapnel from above. 

"I won't allow it!" Daisy cried in a raucous voice. "You two deserve to be taught a lesson... **THROUGH SHEER BRUTALITY** !"

A shot close to her foot puts Sophie off balance and sends her barreling through a loose door on her left. After getting her footing and some of her breath back, she felt Heckle tap her shoulder.

"Psst, hey! Check this place out!"

=Looking up, Sophie could recognize the sight of abandoned game tables and scattered barstools. This was the rec room, and from the sight of broken glassware and expired snacks on the floor, it looked as though no one's touched this place since the after-party.

"And look!" Heckle said as he turned his head towards the ceiling. "This ceiling has no holes in it! I think we should be safe he-"

_ B-MM! B-MM! _

A ripple of cracks began to grow above them, sprinkling the two in crumbs of plaster.

"Nice going, you jinxed us." Sophie groaned.


	12. During the after party

With hardly any time to spare, Sophie dived under a nearby table before Daisy had a chance to see her. The ripping and raining of shredded wood eventually ceased, leaving only the stressful tittering of the doll-like beast. 

The sound of zipping wire drew closer as Daisy descended into the room, Sophie could hear the home-maker gently land above, hopefully, unaware that her prey was just beneath her feet.

" _ I know you're somewhere in here… _ " Daisy cooed.

Sophie could hear Daisy begin to crawl down to the other side of the table, giving her enough time to crouch walk to a knocked down foosball table. As the girl and her puppet peeked over, they saw Daisy's head sway from left to right trying to spot them.

They duck back down the second they see her head violently rotate 180 degrees.

"It's not very safe to play hide and seek my dear," Daisy called out, her tone similar to how she spoke when filmed. "Especially with how dangerous it can be down here…"

"We're thumped, we're thumped, we are  _ royally thumped _ !" Heckle whimpered.

Sophie tries to keep the rabbit calm by holding him close. With his nerves badly rattled, he was in no position to scout for them without risking capture. She was about to risk looking for herself, but a quiet rasp caught her attention first.

" _ Psst, you two. Over here. _ "

The voice came from a nearby door; slightly opened but pitch black on the other side. 

_ "The homemaker is after you, yes? Quickly! You must come in here, she will not be able to follow." _

Sophie squints suspiciously. There was nothing familiar about this stranger with a heavy French accent, but it could also be one of the other two handeemen attempting to lure her out. Or even worse…

_ "What the hell makes you think I should trust you? I can't even see who I'm talking to!" _ Sophie snapped back as quietly as she could.

_ "Well clearly you don't have many options madame,"  _ The voice hissed back,  _ "And I doubt you want the option that involves your, how you say...disembowelment." _

Well shit, they had her there. 

_ "We will have a proper meeting once we find ourselves safer if it really means that much to you. Hurry now, Allons-y!" _

Sophie looked down to Heckle trembling in her arms, then took a brief peek over to Daisy. She was searching near the kitchen counters, growing more frustrated with each empty cabinet. If Sophie and Heckle didn't leave now, Daisy would be quick to find them.

The only comfort she had in trusting this stranger was that they did not rhyme...and that would just have to be enough for now.

Sophie quickly slips through the door, but nearly loses her footing as she discovers the door leading down to a stairwell. Instinctively reaching for any sort of balance, her right-hand grabs the door's handle behind her, slamming it shut in the process. 

The noise was quickly picked up by Daisy. From the other side, Sophie heard her scurry closer and begin slamming her fists against the old door.

" **NO, NO, NO! YOU ROTTEN LITTLE BRATS!** " Daisy screeches. " **YOU'LL REGRET GOING DOWN THERE! YOU'LL DIE LIKE RATS!** "

Sophie took Daisy's warning with a grain of salt as she quickly made her way downstairs. While she had no idea what could be waiting for them once they reached the bottom, it was more promising than staying near the puppet that tried to impale her with shrapnel. Upon reaching the bottom, they were greeted by a flickering bulb that illuminated a lone door with a plaque.

" _ Prop storage… _ " Sophie mumbled, trying to read the sign's original description over the abstract symbols painted in red.

Turning the knob, they entered into the large and cluttered room. The rows of old backdrops, scattered costume racks, and prop shelves gave the storage its halls and corridors. It was a maze of memories that Sophie only remembered from the other side of the screen.

Heckle, finally calming down after their escape, glanced around in awe. "Woah...get a load of all this neat stuff."

"From the looks of it, this stuff must have been from the first few seasons." Sophie quietly remarked. 

They wandered further down, walking by a variety of the show's former relics. Nothing had felt out of place for a studio's prop room, but Sophie couldn't let her guard down too soon. Someone else was still down here with them.

"This place is _weird_ , it's like a bunch of different places all fused together…" Heckle rasped. "But...other than that, I don't see what that creepy lady was so worried about."

Sophie remembered to exhale; it felt like she was holding her breath since they managed to escape Daisy. "Honestly, I'm just glad she didn't recognize me, especially after... _what_..."

Sophie's sentence trailed off, not eager to continue sharing her thoughts. She was too late to try brushing it off, as Heckle locked his eyes on her. 

"...Sophie, what did you do?"

Her throat ran dry; the thought of that night still made Sophie's heart sink and her skin crawl. "What do you mean  _ 'what did I do?' _ , you were there too, remember?"

Heckle stayed silent, cocking his head to the side in confusion. 

"Well, I mean...you were there," Sophie grumbled in frustration. "but I guess you weren't technically alive yet…like them."

Sophie ran her fingers through her bangs, clutching her hair as she tried to figure out how to talk about one of her most traumatic memories. She took a seat against a fake treehouse and tried to collect herself.

"Okay...it took place the night we finished filming the special." Sophie began. "Owen had promised he was going to give you to me, as sort of a farewell gift. He wasn't able to perform with Mortimer that night, but I was supposed to meet him in the workshop after we wrapped everything up."

Heckle watched as Sophie gripped against her knee. Her eyes strained from holding back the urge to cry.

"I...I made my way over there as soon as I could." Sophie choked. "He was sitting alone in the dark with a lit gas lamp next to him. I called out to him to see if he was okay, but..."

Sophie gasped, taking a second to try and breathe.

" _...he didn't even move. _ "

She wiped away the tears that were beginning to well from her eyes. Sophie couldn't bring herself to look at Heckle while in such a vulnerable state.

"I shouldn't have gotten closer...I did because I saw you propped on the table, but...then I got a closer look at Owen." Her voice started to tremble. "His face...it was frozen in this...horrible, painful state. His eyes were...bulging from their sockets, and his skin looked drained of all color.”

  
“Was...was he sick?” Heckle asked quietly.   
  
  
“He was dead.”   
  
  
Heckle’s eyes widened in shock, his ears drooped down in dread. “I...I was sleeping next to a dead guy...? Wait, is dead contagious?”   
  
  
It was at this point Sophie realized that Heckle had no real concept of mortality, and as much as she wanted to get angry over his oblivious question, she knew she had no real right to be.   
  
  
  
“No, death is…” Sophie sighed trying to figure out the right wording. “It’s kind of like sleeping, but you never wake up again. You simply just stop...well, being you. Permanently.”    
  
  
“Oh, that’s...great,” Heckle said exasperated, “Now I never want to sleep again.”   
  
  
Sophie rolled her eyes as she steadied herself. It was weird how Heckle’s innocence soothed her nerves, but talking with him was easier than any of the therapists she has seen before.   
  
  
“So wait, how exactly did Owen die then?” Heckle asked, going back to the subject.   
  
  
“That’s just it, I don’t really know what happened either…” Sophie sniffed, her tone growing more bitter. “...But I’m pretty sure Mortimer had something to do with it.”   
  
  
“Mortimer?” Heckle’s head shook in disbelief. “N-No way! That’s impossible! I know Mortimer can be a grump sometimes, but…” He continued to stammer for a bit until he looked back up at Sophie. “...What would even give you that idea?”   
  
  
“Well for one…" Sophie continued, "He and the other puppets didn't seem phased by Owen when they suddenly appeared behind me.”

  
She wrapped her right arm to her left side, trying to comfort herself. "The shit they rambled about freaked me the fuck out; stuff about taking over the studio, stealing human souls, and…how I was going to become a permanent member of  _ their family _ ..."

"What did you do then?" Heckle asked intently.

  
  
"Oh, that was a no brainer," Sophie smirked. "I grabbed you and tried to get us the fuck out of there! But...not before Daisy tried to stop me, and..." 

"And what?"

She inhaled through her teeth and she winced; "I...threw that lit gas lamp...at her head."

  
Heckle gasped, completely flabbergasted over Sophie's actions. "So wait, are you telling me that-"

"No, don't even start! I will not accept responsibility for the fire!" Sophie snapped at Heckle defensively. "It was done out of self-defense, and she ended up lighting more shit on fire than I did-"

Heckle blinked; "...I was going to ask if that's why you're glad she didn't recognize you earlier." 

"...Oh."

She felt her skin flush in shame, her right hand scratching at the back of her head. "Yeah, that...that's mostly why-"

_  
Kh-Thunk! _

  
Sophie bolted back up; without hesitation, the two quickly scanned the area for whatever made that noise. Heckle's paw suddenly pointed towards the path they came through from, an empty glass jar slowly rolling towards Sophie's feet.

  
Whoever helped them was a massive klutz, or they were lying about Daisy following them. Either way, she didn't want to stay to find out who it was.

"M-Maybe it was a rat?" Heckle managed to stutter before Sophie slapped her hand over his mouth.  
  
  
" _Keep your voice down and watch our back..._ " Sophie whispered back.

  
  
Quietly as she could, she continued forward as she positioned Heckle behind her shoulder. After passing a wall of stacked desks, they were greeted to a crowd of mannequins blocking their path. Their heads and limbs were all assembled and positioned in several improbable ways.

" _A mannequin maze…_ " Sophie sighed. " _I was wondering when shit was going to get weird again_."

" _Can I see?_ " Heckle asked, about to turn his head around before Sophie stopped him.

"Don't worry about that right now, you'll see them when we pass by them." She proceeded to slip through the narrow spaces in between the bare models, trying her best not to focus on the disturbing details painted hastily on their faces. Sophie gulped down her desire to vocalize her disgust.

" _...well, not that I think you would really want to._ "

Heckle, on the other hand, couldn't resist himself. Each dummy they passed by received a gag or retch from the rabbit. It got to the point where Sophie pulled Heckle away from her shoulder to scold him;

" _Are you **actually** capable of vomiting, or are you just doing that for fun?_" Sophie snarled.

" _I have no idea,_ " Heckle said. _"I mean I feel like I should be able to, but nothing is coming out…_ "

Sophie gave a brief groan. " _Look, if you don't know, then can you at least be quieter about it? We don't know what kind of person is actually down he-_ "

She gagged the moment she felt an arm wrapped around her throat. With her free hand, she attempted to pry herself out but found whoever had grabbed her to have a surprisingly strong grip. Heckle could only panic as the assailant pulled Sophie back.

" **AHH! SOPHIE!** " Heckle freaked, his tiny paws trying to help pry off the arm. " **LET GO OF HER YOU NASTY JERK!** "

Sophie could only struggle in vain, her elbows trying to jab at the person behind her. Her vision began to blur the more she gasped for air, the cries of her puppet companion fading as she slipped into unconsciousness...


	13. The Interview

Her face felt cold.

Wincing, Sophie rubbed at her eyelids as she slowly sat back up. Her eyes were straining as she tried to adjust to the brightness around her. The last thing Sophie could remember was walking through a bunch of ugly mannequins until…

"Hey, Heckle? Are you alri-"

Sophie turned to her left. Heckle was nowhere to be found, her lower arm was back to normal with the exception of her flared scar.

Her hands banged against the table, eyes scanning her surroundings. Why the hell was she back at the diner again? She didn't just happen to dream all of that horrible shit, did she?

What the hell was going on?

The diner looked completely empty, which was strange for an establishment that often bragged about being open twenty-four hours. She couldn't hear any commotion from behind the kitchen doors and all the window blinds were down, but the lights were left on as if it was another normal shift.

Sitting in the same place she was in earlier that day, her eyes glanced at her own window. It was blinded like the others, but she noted a lack of noise from outside. Even if it was late at night, the diner was near a bustling highway, and she would have noticed the echoes of cars passing by now.

Sophie noticed the hook that kept the screen down with a ring. She knew it wouldn't be any trouble to the staff if she wanted to look outside, but the lack of any human presence made her reluctant to unhook the ring. With hesitance, her hand slowly reached for the ring…

_ Ding-d-ding~ _

Wait...that was the entrance door. Someone else was actually here.

Sophie turned to see the other person, not expecting anyone she knows personally, but one look at the face made her groan quietly.

" _ Shit...why'd you have to show up now of all times…? _ "

The guy in question was a more recent nuisance for her. Looking like some kind of off-brand Fox Mulder in a poorly kept three-piece suit, he was apparently the co-founder for some fancy paranormal journalist group on the internet. At one point he tried to get an interview from her for a story regarding the history of the Handeemen HQ, to which Sophie had no interest in sharing. 

Since then, he had made himself into an infrequent pest. Often showing up when she least expected him, and almost always during a bad time. She had already reached a point with him where she told him to fuck off with his story hunting, so it was an unpleasant surprise to see the guy walking towards her without any regard for her previous warning.

"Sorry, I’m late." He grumbles, taking a seat across from her and placing what looked like a pet carrier next to him. "I had to sell my car recently, so the bus kind of fucked over the original schedule I had planned."

Sophie stayed silent, confused over his mellow behavior towards her. The last encounter they had ended with her threatening to call the cops and a swift punch to his gut, now he was sitting across from her as if none of that ever happened. Before she could ask what he was doing here, she saw him open the carrier and pull out a microphone and tape recorder.

His body language appeared stressed. His fingers fiddle with the microphone's input, eventually double-checking to make sure the volume and tape cassette were all functioning properly. Pressing record, the journalist cleared his throat brought the mic closer to his face;

"Testing, testing...Alright, good! August 19th; time is...I've got no fucking clue anymore. Tonight, I have with me a former employee of the Handeemen Warehouse, a previous child actress by the name of Sophie Sellick. Sophie, I’d like to thank you for,  _ finally _ , offering me some of your time."

The journalist's fingers drum impatiently on the table, waiting for Sophie to say something back. She gave no response, still weirded out over the whole scenario.

" _ Alright then _ ," The man exhaled, "I think we'll go ahead and start off with an easy question. While you were working at the studio, were you aware that the puppets Owen made were actually alive?" 

Sophie's face turned grim; this wasn't going to be some average interview.

"I'm...sorry?"

"If you can think back far enough, do you happen to remember any of the puppeteers acting strange when they went into character?" He continued, growing more irritated with her. "Did you ever see them act hostile towards others?"

"Hold on-" Sophie tried to interrupt but the journalist cut her off; 

"Did any of them ever force you to put on a puppet?"

" **Just shut the fuck up for a second!** " Sophie finally snapped, her yell briefly echoing through the vacant restaurant. 

"How the fuck did you find me? I thought I already told you I don't want to do this dumb ass interview!"

Fed up with the lack of cooperation, the man drops the microphone on the table and flicks the recording off.

" _ Did you seriously just call me to some random ass dive so you could waste my time? _ Is that it?" He griped, his hands clutching into fists as he shook. "I don't have time for some burnt-out stoner like you to drag me out here and spit in my face!"

"Oh, you can fuck right off!" Sophie barked back, "Don't even try to act like I'm the only trainwreck here. I can smell the Captain's spiced gold on your breath already!"

The journalist slammed his back against the booth, scoffing. "Well, if you had seen the shit that I was put through recently, you wouldn't want to be sober either."

A part of Sophie didn't want to pry into the dilemma of someone she hardly knew, but with the topic of his trauma being closely related to her own, she felt her curiosity betray her.

"You know what? Fine." Sophie groaned, "Go ahead, what's the worst you can show me?"

The journalist narrowed his eyes at her. She didn't make an effort to sound sincere, but it seemed to be enough for him to start rummaging through his pockets for something. He pulled out a collection of polaroids and placed them on the table. Many of the photos had poor focus, but enough to make out the subjects.

"The only thing I can remember about these photos was that it was before I was going to bail on the place." The journalist began, "There were a bunch of strange noises coming from upstairs, but that's when my memory starts to get hazy. I don't even remember taking any of these, but when I found myself outside somehow with these pictures, I knew something fucked up was going on."

Sophie kept quiet as he spoke, she was unable to move as she stared down at the disturbing imagery. Some were more recognizable; a photo looking up towards the catwalks, where the glint of a familiar monocle could be seen. Others were silhouettes of large hulking figures that were barely in view, many of them carrying what looked like body bags.

One photo caught her attention more than the others. With a shivering hand, she picked up the polaroid that showed a man sitting with his back towards the camera, in front of him were several lit screens that made it impossible to see the details in the shadows.

...But she knew who it was.

" _ Owen…? _ " 

"Wait, what did you say?"

Sophie blinked out of her trance, looking to the journalist before looking back at the photo. 

"The...room in this picture is from the main floor." She stammered, pointing to the man in the picture. "And...and that man in the middle, that's Owen's-"

Sophie stopped herself, realizing she was saying too much. The journalist snatched the photo from her hand, scanning it before staring back at her.

"How do you know that's him?" He asked.

The pressure in her chest began to tighten, it had been years since she had talked about Owen's death with anyone. While she had to leave out a lot of details to protect her reputation as a sane person, she was now confronted with someone who was actually willing to believe her.

And yet, as a force of habit, she stayed silent.

"Sophie," the journalist asked calmly, finally noticing her discomfort. "Do you know what happened to Owen?"

"...This can't be happening right now," Sophie said under her breath.

"Sophie, please. I just want to help-"

"YOU CAN'T HELP ME!" Sophie finally snapped, her face growing hot from anger. "NO ONE CAN HELP FIX THE DAMAGE THAT FUCKING PLACE HAS DONE TO ME!"

She clutches at her chest, sobbing from the overwhelming pressure constricting her. "EVEN IF I DID BELIEVE YOU, IT WON'T MAKE ANY SORT OF DIFFERENCE! IT WON'T BRING BACK OWEN! IT WON'T BRING BACK MY MOM!"

Sophie placed her head against the table, hiding her face as she cried into her arms. The shame of breaking down in a public place was mortifying but even more so over some pushy journalist trying to get answers out of her. It almost made her glad that there seemed to be no one else around.

A sense of comfort suddenly came from a hand being placed on her head. Although the gentle grazing of fingers was easing her grief, there was something strangely familiar about his actions.

"Hey now, it's okay. It sounds like you've been going through a rough time too..." The tone of the journalist now oddly sympathetic. "I promise though, the things I plan on doing will also help you...in the long run I mean."

It finally dawned on her that she probably shouldn't allow him to touch her in such an intimate way. Moving her head away, Sophie straightened herself up and rubbed at her eyes.

"I don't know how much you had to drink tonight," she mumbled, trying to come off as comical to feign her discomfort. "but I'm definitely not drunk enough to have someone touch me like tha-"

Sophie froze, focused on the journalist's eyes.

An off white fluid was pooling at his lower eyelids and trickling down his face. His iris melted into his sclera with every unassuming blink. The black of his pupils grew unevenly as the color from his eyes began to drain.

"Is...something wrong?" The journalist asked obliviously.

"...Y-Your eyes are melting."

The journalist touched his face and raised his fingers up to look. He had no reaction; only a small hum of recognition as the colorful fluid formed puddles on the table.

Sophie could only stare in horror as he stared back with his two black, empty voids.

_ "Well then...let's get back to the interview." _

With a smile growing on his face, he carefully picked up the microphone and hit the record button again. Pointing it towards Sophie, he asked;

"When did you start accepting the name, Sophie?"

"That's...always been my name though." Sophie stammered.

" _ Hmph _ , and just where did you get that idea from?" The journalist asked, his tone strangely bitter.

She raised an eyebrow. Her fear phasing into confusion over his abrupt change in topic. It almost felt like the investigator she was talking to was replaced by a fake one when she wasn't looking.

"It's...more of a fact than an idea. My Mom gave it to me,  _ obviously _ ."

The journalist sneered at her, acting as if she had caused him some kind of personal offense with her answer. His nostrils flared in a fit of quiet anger as he proceeded to lean in closer. Sophie suddenly noticed that his eyes were no longer the only things melting, his hair and parts of his earlobe started to break down into liquid as well.

" _...Why, after all of these years _ ," The melting man began to hiss, "Would you EVER let a miserable hag like her try to tell you who you're supposed to be?"

Sophie's brow furrowed. "What the fuck is wrong with you? What thinks you have the right to say shit about people you never knew?"

The oozing journalist bared his teeth from her tone, the muddy stains of grey and black revealing an unnatural wooden texture.

" _ You've told me enough though, how you were treated like her pawn! _ " He snarled, " _ Deep down I know you're happy that she's gone! _ "

"Why the hell would you ever think I would want that?!" Sophie blared out in frustration, slamming her palms on the table as she tried to stand her ground. "You don't know who I really am! You don't know what makes me happy!"

The journalist broke into laughter, his flesh liquefying off his skeletal frame as his features began to alter greatly.

" _ I know you were happier with me, dear Claire...you don't have to keep pretending that you care. _ " 

Sophie's eyes widened, nearly stumbling back into her seat. For a moment, he almost sounded like...

"...What the fuck did you call me?"

"Your name; your REAL name! Not that miserable charade!" His teeth elongated as he spoke, the voice of the young man from before deteriorating into a familiar growl. "You must return to me NOW...and take your place as my aide."

_ Oh christ, he found her again. _

Nervously, she shuffled out of the booth. Eyes locked on the nightmare that was hiding under the skin of another memory. "I'm pretty sure I made myself clear that night." She rasped in anger and fear. "I. Want. Nothing to do with you! And for the last fucking time, MY NAME IS NOT CLAIRE!"

" **_YES IT IS_ ** **!** "

The monstrosity bashed his fists against the table, unhooking the blind as it retracted. Sophie fell back in shock as she witnessed the giant eye gazing at her from the black void. Now more Mortimer than the journalist from before, he got up from his seat and towered over her.

" _ Stop lying to yourself... _ **_STOP LYING TO ME!_ ** " He snapped at her with full fury. " **_THOSE WRETCHES HAVE DECEIVED YOU!! WHY CAN'T YOU SEE?!_ ** "

Sophie tried to get back on her feet, finding it difficult as the tile floor began to soften like quicksand. The horrific fiend had no issue with drawing closer despite their environment becoming more unstable. She tried to back away and head towards the exit, but was caught off guard as a giant wooden hand crashed through one of the windows.

The sharp claws managed to scathe her as she attempted to dodge towards the counter. With the floor quickly sinking away, she latched herself to one of the bar stools. She tried to hoist herself upwards to gain some footing, but was picked up effortlessly by the monstrosity that caught up with her.

"Your days of hiding are numbered, no matter how much you whine," His hands clutched against her neck as he drew her closer to his face. "After all these wasted years, I can finally make you mi-"

"SOPHIE! HEY SOPHIE!"

Both Sophie and her nightmare looked to her left. Her hand was raised and positioned like a mouth, gabbing on it's own with a familiar voice.

"SOPHIE YOU GOTTA WAKE UP ALREADY!" 

"What in the..." Mortimer rasped, his voice gradually changing to panic."No...NO! HOW ARE YOU DOING THA-"

-

Sophie's eyes bolt open, panicking as she wakes up. The harmless smacking of Heckle's paws saving her from an incomprehensible fate. Her attention is immediately focused on her furry companion;

"H-Heckle! You're alright!"

"Of course I am!" The rabbit replied, "You were the one that got knocked out, not me!"

Sophie placed a palm on her forehead, wiping the sweat from her brow as she tried to calm herself. She tried to remember why she felt so high strung, but found no memory of what she was dreaming about. It was the fastest she had ever forgotten a bad dream like that, which felt completely unnatural.

"...H-Heckle," her eyes glanced over to him. "Just how long was I out for?"

"I'm not sure." Heckle shrugged. "I have an awful sense of time and neither of us brought a pocket watch. But these guys over here were nice enough to wait for you."

"Wait, what g-GOH FUCK!"

Sophie nearly fell out of her seat when she looked forward. Sitting inches away, a familiar but visibly damaged face stared back with his lone, unamused eye.

"Nick Nack..."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read this little fan fiction. I'm going to be posting the prologue and first chapter just to test the waters. If you like what I have so far, or have any advice for improvement in the future, please leave a comment for me. I love hearing what people think and how I can improve my writing to be more effective.


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